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VARIETY  m  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 


A  Sprmg  Garden  at  Jlochpster,  New  York 


VARIETY  IN 
THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 


BY 

MRS.  FRANCIS  KING 

Author  of  ''The  Little  Garden,"  etc. 


With  Illustrations  and  Plans 


THE  ATLANTIC  MONTHLY  PRESS 
BOSTON 


Copyright  IQ23 
By  Louisa  Yeomans  King 


All  Rights  Reserved 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


To  F.  K. 


SI  23794 

3(44 


The  writer  wishes  to  thank  the  editors  of  The  House  Beau- 
tiful and  MeCalVs  Magazine  for  permission  to  reprint  in  this 
book  material  which  has  appeared  in  their  publications. 


i 

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CONTENTS 

I.  Variety  ix  Spring  Flowers 3 

II.  Variety  in  Flowers  of  Early  Summer 17 

m.  Variety  in  Annual  Flowers 29 

rV.  Variety  in  Perennial  Flowers 45 

V.  Variety  in  Newer  Flowers 61 

VI.  Variety  in  Shrubs 76 

Vn.  Variety  in  Trees 97 

Vm.  The  Meaning  of  the  Garden 108 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

A  Spring  Gabden  at  Rochester,  New  York Frontisjnece 

Late  Tulips  below  Pink  Dogwood 12 

A  Rose  Garden  in  Gloucestershire,  England 24 

Gypsophila  and  Hollyhocks  Finely  Used  along  a  Garden 

Walk 50 

Ipomcea  Rubro-ccerulea  and  Clematis  Stella  Dwyer.  ...  68 

"A  Single  Flowering  Shrub,  Rightly  Placed,  Has  Your 

Eye  to  Itself" 78 

A  Pleached  Alley  of  Lime  Trees 100 

Gardener  and  Friend 116 

Plans  and  Tables 

Plan  for  Formal  Flower-Garden  for  the  Smaxx,  Place  ....  56 

Flower-Planting  Plan  for  Beds  of  the  Garden  Shown 

Above 56 

Tables  of  Pruning-Dibections 94 


VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE   GARDEN 


The  Seed  Shop 

Here  in  a  quiet  and  a  dusty  room  they  lie. 
Faded  as  crumbled  stone  or  shifting  sand. 
Forlorn  as  ashes,  shriveled,  scentless,  dry  — 
Meadows  and  gardens  running  through  my  hand: 

Dead  that  shall  quicken  at  the  call  of  Spring, 
Sleepers  to  stir  beneath  June's  magic  kiss, 
Though  birds  pass  over,  unremembering. 
And  no  bee  seek  here  roses  that  were  his. 

In  this  brown  husk  a  dale  of  hawthorn  dreams; 
A  cedar  in  this  narrow  cell  is  thrust 
That  will  drink  deeply  of  a  century's  streams; 
These  lilies  shall  make  summer  on  my  dust. 

Here  in  their  safe  and  simple  house  of  death. 
Sealed  in  their  shells  a  million  roses  leap; 
Here  I  can  blow  a  garden  with  my  breath. 
And  in  my  hand  a  forest  lies  asleep. 


Reprinted  by  permission  from  Poems  by  Muriel  Stuart 
William  Heinemann,  London 


I 

VARIETY  IN  SPRING  FLOT\^RS 

In  our  spring  gardens  there  are  as  many  excitingly  different 
subjects  as  may  be  found  for  those  of  any  other  season  of  the 
year.  Let  me  WT-ite  of  bulbs  as  though  the  Department  of  Agri- 
culture, through  the  Federal  Horticultural  Board,  had  never 
placed  them  under  quarantine.  Almost  as  I  dip  my  pen  the  em- 
bargo upon  many  of  these  things  has  been  lifted  and  we  may 
secure  our  hearts'  desires  in  little  smooth-skinned  roundlings 
to  plant  in  October  and  November  for  the  painting  of  spring 
pictm-es.  True,  m  three  years,  no  more  daffodils  will  be  per- 
mitted entry  into  America;  still  it  is  moderately  certain  that 
a  way  will  be  found  to  give  us  again  those  special  flowers  without 
which  spring  cannot  be  spring,  and  which  we  shall  so  sorely 
need  for  our  borders. 

First  then,  the  snowdrop  (Galanihus).  Fortunately  this  is 
one  of  the  group  which  may  now  be  freely  imported,  for  it 
is  an  essential  to  all  spring  gardening;  there  is  no  sight  so  dear 
as  that  of  the  first  snowdrop.  After  the  December  blooming 
of  the  Lent  hellebore  there  can  be  no  flowers  in  our  northern 
climate  till  middle  or  late  February  when  the  snowdrop  appears, 
and  when  this  little  flower  pierces  the  ice,  or  stands  whitely 
clustering  about  the  foot  of  an  old  apple  tree,  where  I  come  upon 
it  as  a  surprise,  it  is  then  —  then  —  that  my  heart  dances,  not 
waiting  for  the  daffodils  to  bring  that  joyous  sensation  of 
the  spring. 


UMbkltY 
K.  C.  StaU  College 


4  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

The  common  variety  of  the  snowdrop  is  called  Galanthus 
nivalis.  A  far  finer  one,  to  my  thinking,  is  G.  elwesii  —  taller  and 
for  that  reason  more  easily  gathered,  and  more  efiFective  in  the 
border.  One  cannot  imagine  a  stiff  planting  of  snowdrops,  ex- 
cept perhaps  in  the  hands  of  a  child,  who  naturally  sets  things 
out  in  lines  or  squares.  The  two  great  points  in  setting  these 
things  in  the  October  earth  are  to  plant  in  loose  groups  for  an 
easy  effect,  and  in  far  comers  if  possible,  for  once  sown,  they 
should  never  be  touched.  If  they  are  not,  the  chances  are  that 
they  will  increase  fairly  fast  and  grow  according  to  one's  hopes 
by  spreading  in  their  own  inimitable  way. 

The  Puschkinia  is  another  of  these  delicious  little  early  things. 
Its  nodding  flower  is  held  on  a  stem  about  four  inches  high,  and 
is  striped,  bluish  and  white.  On  our  ground  it  is  fair  to  see,  for 
it  has  spread  itself  about  from  the  first  sowing  till  long  reaches  of 
it  now  appear  imder  lilacs,  and  the  interesting  thing  is  to  see  the 
amount  of  fine  grass-like  leaves  among  the  newer  blooming 
bulbs.  All  these  leaves  give  promise  of  flowers  within  a  year  or 
two.  In  fact,  when  the  blue- white  mist  of  Puschkinia  lies  around 
a  little  semicircular  brick  platform,  —  used  as  a  sitting-place 
just  at  one  side  of  the  garden,  —  runs  off  through  pale  yellow 
tulips,  and  rises  through  the  handsome  leaves  of  Euonymus 
skirting  the  curve  of  brick,  I  think  this  one  of  spring's  most 
endearing  moments. 

Puschkinias,  however,  bloom  after  crocus,  and  in  the  crocus 
we  have  a  whole  boxful  of  colors  with  which  to  paint  the  surface 
of  our  bit  of  ground  in  April.  There  are  pinks,  mauves,  violets, 
lavenders,  and  rich  waxen  whites;  there  are  stripes  and  flakes  of 
color  upon  white;  there  are  tall  and  short  flowers,  slim  or  round- 
ing flowers,  and  when  grown  among  myrtle,  as  now  many  of 
ours  are,  they  sometimes  rise  for  air  and  light  to  a  height  of  eight 
or  nine  inches  in  the  border.  Let  me  give  here  the  names,  first  of 


VARIETY  IN  SPRING  FLOWERS  5 

some  beautiful  species  crocus,  and  then  of  certain  of  the  larger 
type  knouTi  as  florists'  crocus. 

Crocus  korolkowi  is  a  very  early  flower,  low,  small,  bright 
yellow  with  brownish  outer  color.  Crocus  Sieberi  is  a  clear 
lavender.  Crocus  susianus,  bright  yellow,  and  Crocus  Tommasin- 
ianus,  in  spite  of  its  fearsome  adjective,  is  a  beauty  of  slender- 
form  and  of  a  delightful  tone  of  clearest  lavender.  This  crocus 
I  grow  among  snowdrops.  It  blooms  with  them  and  the  little 
white  and  lavender  spring  flowers  together  are  a  welcome  sight. 
WTiy  is  it  that  colored  flowers  in  April  are  surprising  as  well  as 
lovely?  Perhaps  because  in  our  cold  climate  the  first  green  of 
the  grass  is  all  that  we  expect.   When 

.  .  .  fades  the  last  long  streak  of  snow, 

that  green  in  itself  gives  us  the  glow  of  pleasiu-e  which  is  hope. 
And  when,  breaking  upon  this  brilliant  green,  appear  these 
small  and  starry  flowers,  our  cup  of  joy  in  spring  runs  over:  we 
feel  spring  more  than  a  promise.  It  is  a  fulfillment. 

Leaving  the  species  crocus,  let  me  suggest  a  grouping  of  the 
large  named  varieties  which  has  been  most  successful  with  us. 
In  their  order  as  they  lie,  rising  among  the  dark  foliage  of 
mj-rtle  (Vinca  minor),  they  are  these:  Pallas,  Tilly  Koenen, 
Julia  Gulp,  Mikado,  Pallas  once  more,  Ovidius,  and  among  these 
a  little,  say  one  eighth  as  much  of  the  crocus  known  as  "largest 
golden  yellow,"  but  only  in  one  loose  group  or  drift.  Among 
the  lavenders,  whites  and  purples  of  this  group  the  yellow  is  a 
high  light.  I  remember  someone  saying  to  me,  as  we  looked 
upon  these  cups  of  color  and  of  light,  "This  reminds  me  of 
nothing  quite  so  much  as  of  the  effect  of  the  prettiest  possible 
French  hat ! "  A  feminine  remark,  you  say?  Yes,  but  remember 
there  is  nothing  serious  about  a  crocus.  It  is  one  of  the  most 
daring  and  coquettish  flowers  we  have.    It  has  the  two  great 


6  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

qualities  of  bravery  and  mirthfulness,  else  how  could  it  venture 
forth,  as  too  often  it  does,  smiling,  to  its  own  destruction? 

It  happens  that  all  our  crocuses  ^- and  now  through  their 
habit  of  multiplying  there  are  sheets  of  them  —  lie  in  and  out 
of  a  high  wire  fence  around  our  ground,  a  fence  hidden  by  shrubs. 
Many  of  them,  therefore,  are  near  the  public  walk  and  all  be- 
neath the  public  eye,  and  part  of  the  pleasure  of  these  fine 
flowers  in  spring  is  that  enjoyment  of  them  by  all  who  pass  by. 
Another  welcome  pleasure  is  the  sight  of  groups  of  small  chil- 
dren, shepherded  by  their  teachers  to  the  crocus  borders,  the 
sound  of  their  little  squeals  of  delight  in  the  flowers  and  of  fear 
of  that  ever-present  bee  in  the  crocus  cup. 

The  crocus  is  sold  by  all  dealers,  and  the  various  species 
crocus,  like  the  named  sorts,  can  be  brought  in  freely  from 
Europe.  There  is  no  quarantine  against  this  bulb  at  the  time 
of  writing.  And  now  we  may  even  more  enjoy  the  crocus  in 
the  little  garden  —  enjoy  it  entirely  —  because  we  may  have 
again  the  blue  of  scilla.  The  scilla  is  no  longer  prohibited  by 
the  Government.  Scilla  sibirica  is,  luckily  for  us,  the  companion 
in  time  of  bloom  of  much  purple  crocus,  and  very  beautiful  is  this 
effect  along  the  ground.  Scilla  campanulata  excelsior  is  a  later- 
blooming  flower,  tall,  with  lavender  bells  of  a  specially  delicate 
loveliness  when  associated  with  Myosotis.  The  beauty  of  these  is 
such  that  it  is  impossible  not  to  include  them  among  the  treasm-es 
of  the  American  spring,  and  without  them  we  are  left  without 
rich  and  essential  color  for  the  painting  of  our  spring  borders. 

Like  the  crocus  too,  there  is  to  me  nothing  serious  about  the 
hyacinth.  In  fact,  these  are  pure  fun.  They  have  no  form 
to  commend  them  except  in  the  singles.  They  are  heavy,  stiff, 
bungled-looking  as  to  shape,  but  for  the  range  of  their  col- 
ors and  for  the  clear  tones  of  those  hues  they  are  magnificent. 
We  use  not  many,  but  a  few  which  have  become  treasures. 


VARIETY  IN  SPRING  FLOWERS  7 

Among  these  are  Oranjeboven,  of  a  pale  coral  color,  some  of  the 
lavenders  and  violets,  Enchantress,  King  of  the  Blues,  Schotel, 
Grand  Maitre  and  Adelaide  Ristori  and  Yellow  Hammer  for 
pale  yellows.  For  white  hyacinths  I  have  no  fancy,  but  those 
above  mentioned  will  always  charm:  the  violet  group  among 
yellow  daffodils;  the  coral-colored  one  below  the  flowers  of  the 
paler  Japanese  quince. 

With  daffodils  we  enter  the  poetic  walks  of  spring;  modesty, 
grace,  beauty  —  all  figure  in  these  flowers.  But  to  choose  is 
difficult.  Numbers  of  beauties  are  listed  everywhere;  therefore, 
to  name  a  few  of  one's  own  favorites  is  the  practical  thing. 
White  Lady,  a  delicious  Leedsii  daffodil;  Ariadne,  cream-white 
throughout,  and  swayed  by  every  lightest  air;  Mme.  de  Graff, 
a  noble  white  trumpet-daffodil;  Barrii  conspicuus,  primrose- 
yellow  with  a  cup  of  orange-scarlet  —  all  these  I  commend  for 
the  little  garden's  variety  in  May.  Prices  change,  but  at  this 
writing  these  are  some  of  the  least  expensive  of  daffodils.  King 
Alfred's  glorious  yellow  color,  its  tall  and  splendid  flower,  occurs 
to  me  here,  but  its  cost  is  still  very  high,  its  behavior  as  to 
flowering  a  bit  uncertain. 

The  thing  to  remember  about  the  daffodil  tribe,  especially  in 
the  little  garden,  is,  never  let  them  bloom  alone.  Give  them  the 
company  of  other  flowers.  Let  the  blues  of  Mertensia  virginica, 
of  Myosoiis,  —  Royal  Blue  or  Perfection,  —  mingle  with  their 
yellows.  Sow  the  seed  of  late  Myosotis  in  July  for  the  forget- 
me-nots'  pale  blue  among  the  creamy  flowers  of  Ariadne  and 
White  Lady;  carpet  the  ground  before  your  daffodils  with  single 
or  double  Arahis  or  rock-cress,  or  with  pansies.  As  for  the 
Arahis,  its  flowers  will  have  departed  before  the  daffodil  ar- 
rives, but  the  gray  green  of  arabis  foliage  will  enhance  the 
charm  of  the  tall  straight  flowers  of  daffodil  above  it.  The  use 
of  daffodils  with  other  flowers  is  a  large  part  of  this  subject. 


8  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

How  charming  is  the  contrast  of  the  straight  lines  and  stems  of 
daffodils  with  the  round  low  forms  of  pansies,  for  instance,  be- 
low them;  yet  how  perfectly  the  two  types  of  flowers  are  brought 
together  by  the  yellows  in  both.  It  is  a  simple  matter  in  such  a 
climate  as  ours  to  have  fresh  crops  of  pansies  every  spring  from 
seed  sown  the  August  before.  This  we  do  on  our  small  place, 
getting  perhaps  half  an  ounce  of  seed  from  the  finest  American 
source,  —  some  day  the  whole  world  will  be  reopened,  —  sowing 
it  at  once  and  transplanting  seedlings  in  September  to  their 
permanent  place.  This  year  that  place  was  the  upper  garden- 
walk  where  a  magnificent  purple  pansy,  known  by  the  unpre- 
possessing title  of  "Elks'  Purple,"  was  thickly  set  along  either 
border  of  the  walk  for  fifty  feet.  Among  these  pansies  in  Oc- 
tober we  planted  long  groups  of  yellow  tulips,  of  varying  times 
of  bloom.  These  were  all  in  clear  tones  of  yellow,  from  light  to 
dark,  and  in  the  season  now  upon  us  should  make  a  delicious 
planting  of  spring  flowers. 

The  clustering  habit  of  the  pansy  is  half  its  charm.  "  Cuddle- 
me-to-you"  happens  to  be  one  of  its  old  English  names.  Its 
form,  color,  and  texture  set  it  apart  from  all  other  early  flowers 
for  rich,  yet  modest,  beauty.  As  for  the  sentiment  which  always 
hovers  about  the  flower,  I  will  let  others  speak  —  as  speak  they 
do  in  ways  which  seldom  please  me  —  and  will  only  echo,  in 
ending,  the  remark  of  an  old  English  writer  on  pansies,  that 
they  make  "a  pretty  Show  in  Borders." 

"I  was  gazing,"  writes  Havelock  Ellis,  "at  some  tulips,  the 
supreme  image  in  our  clime  of  gayety  in  nature,  their  globes  of 
petals  opening  into  chalices  and  painted  with  spires  of  scarlet 
and  orange  wondrously  mingled  with  a  careless  freedom  that 
never  goes  astray :  brilliant  cups  of  delight  serenely  poised  on  the 
firm  shoulders  of  their  stalks,  incarnate  images  of  flame  under 
the  species  of  Eternity." 


VARIETY  IN  SPRING  FLOWERS  9 

Tulips  bring  to  the  garden,  besides  this  quality  of  gayety, 
those  other  qualities  of  dignity,  of  bright  or  sombre  beauty; 
indeed  with  some  of  the  sorts,  like  Mr,  Groenwegen,  Garibaldi, 
Cardinal  Manning,  and  Louis  XIV,  a  certain  grandeur  of  form 
and  color  attaches  to  these  flowers.  The  earlier  tulips,  species 
tulips  so-called,  like  the  species  crocus,  —  all  flowers  with  few 
or  no  common  names,  only  the  Latin,  but  easily  mastered  when 
one  is  interested,  —  the  species  tulips  are,  for  the  most  part, 
both  small  and  gay.  Everyone  should  leave  a  corner  for  a  small 
collection  of  these.  There  are,  for  instance,  tulip  Greigii,  with  its 
red  and  yellow  flowers,  and  its  spotted  leaf  like  that  of  the 
dogtooth  violet;  tulip  Clusiana,  the  Lady  tulip,  a  tiny  white 
flower  with  bright  rose  outside;  tulip  Fosteriana,  a  magnificent 
scarlet  flower  from  Bokhara,  and  the  lovely  Kaufmanniana, 
called  with  reason  the  water-lily  tulip.  I  write  only  of  those  I 
know,  but  these  tulips  are  vitally  interesting  to  all  who  grow 
spring  flowers,  and  as  it  becomes  more  and  more  simple  to 
procure  scillas,  puschkinias,  and  grape  hyacinths,  so  it  will  be- 
come more  and  more  fascinating  to  try  these  tulips  from  the 
Orient  and  arrange  them  in  clusters  with  the  tiny  flowers  of 
blue  and  violet  just  mentioned. 

The  so-called  early  tulips  we  must  consider,  as  they  are 
valuable  for  effects  upon  the  ground;  yet  I  would  have  the 
reader  remember  that  the  species  tulips  of  the  last  paragraph 
are  much  earlier  in  bloom  than  the  "early"  ones  of  our  bulb 
list.  Among  the  "single  earlies"  as  they  are  called.  Cottage 
Maid  shines  out  to  me  as  an  old  friend  of  the  borders.  It  is 
rose-pink  with  a  white  flush.  Cerise  Grisdelin  and  Rose  Gris- 
delin  again  have  delicious  tones  of  rose.  Brunhilde  is  of  yellowish 
white  and,  in  the  group  of  yellows,  Jaune  Aplatie,  King  of  the 
Yellows,  Yellow  Prince,  Chrysolora,  are  all  excellent  for  clear 
color.  All  these  early  pink  and  yellow  tulips  suggest  forget-me- 


10  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

nots  as  companions:  either  pink  tulips  and  the  myosotis,  or 
yellow  tulips  with  the  same  flower.  Occasionally,  and  with  great 
care  in  their  choice  and  disposition,  I  should  use  the  rose  and 
yellow  both  with  the  little  blue  myosotis,  but  it  is  safer  not  to  do 
this  until  the  bulbs  are  familiar  and  their  colors  known.  Since 
there  are  almost  a  hundred  named  early  tulips  to  be  had,  it 
will  be  seen  that  I  have  skirted  the  subject  by  mentioning  half 
a  dozen.  If  I  shall  have  tempted  someone  in  this  direction  I 
will  leave  the  rest,  with  great  ease  of  mind,  to  himself  and  his 
bulb  list. 

Double  tulips  have  their  own  interest,  but  beware  of  Yellow 
Rose,  of  a  wondrous  yellow  truly,  but  weak-stemmed  and  only 
to  be  used  where  other  foliage  abounds  as  a  support.  Tea-rose 
or  Safrano  is  delightful  in  its  pinkish-yellow  color,  and  this  with 
Myosotis  makes  a  picture  unforgetable.  Bleu  Celeste  is  a 
superb  upright  flower  of  moderately  deep  violet.  This  also  we 
use  above  the  forget-me-not  for  color  and  form  as  well;  for  the 
loose  rosette  of  the  flower  stands  upon  a  straight  stalk.  Bleu 
Celeste  is  not  obtainable  everywhere,  but  it  is  worth  a  search. 
Miss  Jekyll  has  grown  it  in  her  garden  in  England  and  it  was 
from  her  delightful  books  that  it  became  known  to  me.  It  is  a 
double  late  tulip.  Count  of  Leicester  in  this  group  gives  a 
magnificent  effect  of  orange  either  for  cutting  or  for  out-of- 
door  use. 

If  it  is  an  excitement  to  dwell  on  these  early  single  and  double 
tulips,  what  are  one's  feelings  as  the  great  Darwin  and  Cottage 
groups  come  to  mind?  While  it  is  true  that  these  magnificent 
flowers  are  now  generally  known  to  our  people  through  private 
and  public  gardens,  the  choicer  uses  of  them,  their  best  placings 
and  groupings,  are  not  known.  And  it  is  here  that  the  amateur 
has  his  opportunity.  The  great  oblong  of  Darwin  tulips  Clara 
Butt,  stretching  monotonously  along  a  public  gravel-walk,  sue- 


VARIETY  IN  SPRING  FLOWERS  11 

ceeded  probably  by  a  like  oblong  of  Professor  Francis  Darwin  — 
how  stupid,  how  intolerably  dull !  one  might  as  well  be  in  the 
Holland  bulb-fields.  Nothing  is  taught  by  these  blocks  of 
flowers;  it  is  a  mere  showing  of  samples:  I  would  not  exchange 
for  these  thousands  one  small  fifteen-foot  corner  of  our  own 
where  the  late  single  tulips,  Hobbema  (Le  R^ve),  bloom  each 
spring  among  a  host  of  blue  Mertensia  flowers  —  the  simplest 
possible  naturalistic  arrangement,  but  appealing,  truly.  There- 
fore the  chance  for  variety  in  the  use  in  the  little  garden  of  these 
tall  colored  flowers,  the  late  tulips,  cannot  be  measured.  There- 
fore, also,  instead  of  giving  short  lists  of  those  familiar  to  me, 
I  shall  suggest  the  buying  of  ten  of  a  kind  for  trial  of  unknown 
sorts,  and  the  planting  of  these  among  or  back  of  other  spring 
flowers  to  give  each  subject  its  highest  effect. 

The  late  Myosotis  is  ever  beautiful  among  Darwin  and  Cot- 
tage tulips.  It  matters  not  what  the  tulip's  color  is ;  these  delicate 
blues  are  enchanting  below  all.  Myosotis  Perfection  and  M. 
Royal  Blue  are  marvelous  blue  flowers.  The  new  Anchusa 
myosotidiflora  will,  when  better  known,  prove  a  great  help  in 
color-grouping  of  tulips.  Its  beauty  is  little  known  now,  but  its 
bright  blue  upright  flower,  its  handsome  rounding  leaf,  and  its 
generally  alert  habit  make  it  a  fit  companion  for  the  brisk  bloom 
of  the  Darwin.  Barr's  Alpine  Blue  Myosotis  is  of  a  rare  color 
and  very  free  flowering.  Send  abroad  for  a  packet  of  this. 

Be  eclectic  in  your  seed-buying,  unafraid  to  try  foreign  seeds 
now  and  again.  Foreign  catalogues  enlarge  enormously  one's 
gardening  outlook,  and  often  provide  tremendously  interesting 
surprises  and  give  new  ideas.  The  bulk  of  our  seeds  should 
naturally  be  bought  in  our  own  land,  but  it  is  both  friendly  and 
wise  to  go  abroad  each  year  for  novelties  and  varieties  not  on 
our  own  market.  As  I  write,  I  know  well  that  the  mail  bags  on 
many  a  boat  between  this  country,  England  and  France,  are 


12  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

rattling  with  seed  packets,  and  is  there  a  better  shuttle  with 
which  to  weave  the  threads  of  pleasant  intercourse  than  the 
packet  of  flower  seed?  A  harmless  —  no,  a  beneficent  messenger, 
and  one  whose  numbers,  let  us  hope,  may  increase  from  year 
to  year.  I  look  forward  to  a  time  when  foreign  journals  of  gar- 
dening will  list  our  firms  as  advertisers  and  vice  versa.  Such 
international  intercourse  will  be  well  worth  while.  To  a  very 
limited  extent  this  is  done  now;  it  should  be  general. 

But  we  are  far  afield.  That  thought  of  broad  waters  and  of 
ships  carries  us  dangerously  far.  Returning  to  our  moutons  of 
American  garden  borders  —  let  us  mention  some  superb  Darwin 
tulips,  which,  if  grouped,  give  beauty  unparalleled  for  the  month 
of  May.  First,  a  fine  picture  of  violet  and  bronze  to  bronzy  rose 
is  given  by  planting  in  the  order  set  forth:  Socrates  (Violet 
Queen),  Washington,  Marconi,  Garibaldi,  Melicette.  Garibaldi 
is  one  of  the  noblest  of  the  group  —  a  tawny  straw-yellow  flushed 
with  pinkish  lavender.  Tulips  Solferino,  Twilight,  and  Albion 
are  fine  company  for  each  other.  Saloman  and  Mrs.  Kerrell  — 
that  beautiful  rosy  Mrs.  Kerrell  —  are  delightful  neighbors.  So 
are  Miss  Willmott  and  Lord  Cochran.  For  more  varied  group- 
ings I  commend  these:  Princess  Elizabeth,  Mr.  Groenwegen 
(a  great  favorite  with  me,  this  last).  La  Tulipe  Noire,  and 
Olifant;  or  Plutarchus,  Don  Pedro,  Alice.  A  magnificent  array 
would  be  Solferino  and  Garibaldi  with  Elegans  lutea  maxima^ 
Avis  Kennicott,  Bouton  d'Or,  and  Panorama,  palest  lavender 
and  straw  color  through  yellow  to  a  bright  orange.  These 
should  be  set  in  the  order  given. 

A  considered  planting  of  tulips  in  a  certain  garden  (that  of 
Mr.  Sidney  M.  Colgate  of  Orange,  New  Jersey),  pictured  op- 
posite this  page,  shows  these  flowers  below  a  pink  dogwood  in 
full  flower;  the  tulips  used  were  of  rose,  and  dark  and  pale  violet, 
all  harmonizing  perfectly  with  the  lovely  tree  above  them.  Their 


Late  Tulips  below  Pink  Dogwood 


VARIETY  IN  SPRING  FLOWERS  13 

names  were,  in  groups  as  they  were  to  be  planted:  Clara  Butt, 
Electra,  and  Dream;  or,  Sir  Trevor  Lawrence,  Mystery,  Sir 
Harris  and  John  Ruskin.  The  garden  beds  are  bordered  with 
low  box  hedges  and  the  planting  is  supposed  to  supply  bloom 
mainly  in  spring  and  autumn.  The  dogwood  tree  is  a  very  old 
one;  great  care  was  exercised  in  building  the  brick  wall  which 
now  partly  encloses  it,  to  do  no  harm  to  the  roots  of  this  inval- 
uable possession.  The  pink  dogwood  is  a  sport  of  the  white; 
one  sees  it  occasionally  in  the  woods  of  the  middle  Solith,  and 
it  is  one  of  the  choicest  subjects  for  the  embellishment  of  northern 
gardens,  especially  in  the  eastern  states,  bringing  as  it  does  the 
softest  cloud  of  warm  pink  into  the  spring  landscape. 

In  a  charming  book  describing  her  long  visits  to  an  Italian 
farm  near  Venice,  Margaret  Symonds  sets  down  this  sentence, 
"On  this  earth,  one  season  is  usually  spent  in  looking  for  signs 
of  the  next."  In  winter,  the  gardener  thinks  not  alone  of  winter 
but  of  spring.  What  shall  I  see  in  this  or  that  place  next  spring? 
Shall  that  spot  be  bare  or  beautiful?  Shall  it  be  dull  and  color- 
less, a  space  of  uneven  soil,  a  breeding-spot  for  weeds,  or  shall 
I  plan  now  for  a  lovely  flower-embroidered  oblong  to  rejoice  the 
eye  next  spring  in  April  or  May?  There  is  but  one  answer  to 
be  made  to  this  question,  and  it  can  be  given  in  three  simple 
words :  Plan,  Prepare,  Plant. 

The  kind  of  beauty,  the  height  of  beauty,  is  made  or  marred 
by  the  plan.  Let  us  discuss  now  for  the  little  garden  two  pos- 
sible plans,  one  for  a  border  of  spring  flowers  from  ten  to  twenty 
feet  long  by  two  wide,  the  other  for  a  small  formal  garden  of 
such  things.  The  choice  may  be  made  easily  between  them,  but 
let  me  add  that  no  one  who  has  not  tried  it  can  possibly  guess 
at  the  delight  that  comes  from  a  garden  of  bulbs,  complete  in 
itself,  a  little  entity  of  gay  spring  color.  And  now  I  think  of  a 
most  lovely  picture  in  Miss  Waterfield's  book.  Garden  Colour. 


14  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

It  is  called  "May  Tulips"  and  shows  a  little  border  of  spring 
flowers  near  a  farmhouse  in  England.  The  foreground  is  a  bit  of 
level  ground  through  which  runs  a  narrow  brick  walk,  widening 
into  a  square  in  one  place  —  a  square  on  which  a  sundial  is 
placed  —  and  then  going  on  a  few  feet  to  three  steps  up,  made 
necessary  by  a  sudden  rise  of  groimd.  The  walk  is  at  a  right 
angle  to  the  upward  slope.  The  steps  are  built  in  a  low  stone 
retaining-wall,  about  two  feet  high,  which  serves  two  purposes 
—  it  keeps  the  earth  of  the  bank  in  place,  and  it  makes  a  perfect 
background  for  tulips.  On  either  side  of  the  steps  at  the  top 
are  two  round  balls  of  stone,  about  a  foot  in  diameter,  which 
give  a  decorative  touch;  the  ground  beyond  runs  gently  up- 
ward through  an  old  orchard.  Against  this  low  wall  is  the  gayest 
imaginable  spring  bloom,  growing  in  a  border  about  two  feet 
wide  just  below  the  wall.  A  little  knot  of  pink-and-white  striped 
tulips  (Prosperity  would  be  a  lovely  tulip  here),  with  two  or 
three  plants  of  pale  yellow  primroses  below,  stand  to  the  right 
of  the  steps.  Beyond,  farther  to  the  right,  are  deep  pink  tulips, 
perhaps  Clara  Butt,  with  forget-me-nots  clothing  the  ground 
below  them,  then  more  of  the  pink-and-white.  To  the  left  of 
the  steps  the  planting  is  repeated,  though  beyond  the  first 
tulip-group  of  pink  there  is  a  little  planting  of  parrot  tulips, 
those  wild,  torn-looking  flowers  that  would  be  so  much  better 
for  one's  use  in  gardens  if  they  had  stiffer  stems.  These  are  of 
course  red,  yellow  and  green,  yet  their  colors  are  made  agreeable 
here  with  the  pinks  by  the  clouds  of  yellow  (of  primrose)  and 
of  sky-blue  (of  forget-me-nots),  all  below  this  line  of  tulips. 
Just  beyond  the  top  of  the  wall  a  few  low-growing  things,  such 
as  rock-cress  (Arahis  alpina)  and  the  hardy  yellow  alyssum 
{Alyssum  saxatile)  creep  in  low  bright  bloom,  and  the  whole 
makes  as  simple  and  lovely  a  garden  picture  as  it  is  possible 
to  imagine. 


VARIETY  IN  SPRING  FL0\\T:RS  15 

Why  cannot  anyone  who  has  ground  which  rises  and  who 
wants  something  beautiful  to  see  in  spring,  —  something  freshly 
beautiful,  I  mean,  —  why  cannot  anyone  make  such  a  little- 
garden  picture  as  this?  The  sundial  is  not  a  necessity  at  first 
but  it  adds  great  beauty  to  the  picture  —  that,  or  a  well-pro- 
portioned bird-bath.  The  walk  might  be  three  feet  wide,  en- 
larging at  the  sundial's  place  to  a  six-foot  square.  Brick  is  not 
essential.  If  one  lives  in  a  region  where  flat  stone  is  easily 
brought  in,  this  is  as  fine  if  not  finer  than  brick.  A  flagged  walk, 
laid  of  uneven  stones,  gives  a  look  of  age  and  use  always  wel- 
come to  the  discerning  eye.  The  border  might  be  a  bit  more  than 
two  feet  wide;  then  I  should  surely  set  in,  among  the  tulips  and 
early  spring  flowers,  a  few  roots  of  Iris  germanica,  and  colum- 
bines of  good  kinds.  Try  Mrs.  Scott  Elliott's  hybrids,  growing 
them  from  seed  the  year  before.  Unless  you  know  these  you  do 
not  know  the  columbine  in  its  present  beauty  of  form  and  color. 

Next  let  us  discuss  a  little  informal  border  against  a  fence  or 
along  a  hedge,  to  give  bloom  for,  say,  three  weeks  of  spring:  a 
border  four  feet  wide  and  twenty  feet  long.  And  first,  after 
digging  deep  and  preparing  well  that  border  (but  no  fresh 
manure  in  it),  I  should  move  a  few  good  peonies  in  September 
to  a  permanent  place  there,  spacing  these  regularly  in  a  long 
line  four  feet  apart.  Never  plant  bulbs  around  a  peony  which 
stands  alone;  the  result  is  nothing  but  a  spot  of  color,  meaning- 
less, ugly.  There  is  however  no  prettier  place  for  them  than 
around  the  up-coming  stems  of  peonies  in  the  spring  border, 
and  as  the  leaves  of  bulbs  brown  and  wither,  the  fresh  green 
foliage  of  the  peony  claims  attention  and  the  fading  beneath  is 
forgotten. 

First  in  this  border  is  a  scattering  of  crocus  bulbs  everywhere: 
Mikado,  striped  like  dimity;  Kathleen  Parlow,  a  waxen  white; 
purpurea  grandiflora,  rich  violet;  Largest  Golden  Yellow.  Keep 


16  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

your  colors  separate,  but  let  these  little  colonies  run  into  each 
other  as  flowers  do  in  the  woods.  Some  early  tulips  are  here  and 
there.  For  a  pink  effect,  Cottage  Maid,  Pink  Beauty,  and 
Murillo  (a  double).  For  late  tulips  in  pink:  Clara  Butt,  Ingles- 
combe  Pink,  Baronne  de  la  Tonnaye.  Among  the  early  tulips 
some  lavender  hyacinths  will  be  charming  —  King  of  the  Blues 
(pale  lavender).  Grand  Maitre  (deep  purple).  As  for  daffodils, 
which  should  be  frequent  and  in  informal  groups  of  from  twenty 
to  thirty.  Flora  Wilson  is  a  lovely  variety.  So  is  Ariadne;  and 
Cynosure  and  Lucifer  are  handsome  flowers  with  their  orange 
cups  against  the  white  outer  petals.  Emperor  and  Empress,  the 
yellow  trumpet  daffodils,  can  be  bought  anywhere. 

The  little  low-growing  perennial  things,  mentioned  before  as 
growing  at  the  top  of  a  low  wall,  are  enchanting  if  grown  below 
tulips,  daffodils,  and  other  taller  flowers.  As  for  the  forget-me- 
nots  (Myosotis)  I  should  grow  these  from  seed.  Sow  in  June  or 
July  the  varieties  Perfection  or  Royal  Blue;  let  the  plants  seed 
themselves  after  flowering  the  following  spring;  and  if  your 
climate  is  fairly  cool  and  your  soil  good,  you  should  have,  as  I 
do,  Myosotis  growing  like  a  weed  everywhere.  No  weed  so 
welcome  as  this,  for  below  lilacs  in  May,  back  of  yellow  tulips, 
everywhere  we  see  these  delicate  reaches  of  sky-blue.  It  is  one 
of  the  most  heavenly  things  in  our  spring. 

The  very  cheapest  tulip  one  can  buy,  by  the  way,  is  one  of 
the  most  beautiful,  and  it  increases  constantly  from  year  to 
year.  It  is  tulip  Gesneriana  rosea,  a  brilliant  cherry-crimson, 
most  striking  in  beauty  when  raising  its  handsome  heads  above 
sheets  of  blue  forget-me-nots. 


n 

VARIETY  IN  FLOWERS  OF  EARLY  SUMMER 

The  iris  is  now  so  constantly  before  the  mind  and  the  eye  of 
the  gardener,  and  so  much  is  written  and  said  of  it  to-day  that, 
as  June  comes,  it  begins  to  press  the  rose  for  pride  of  place. 
Could  we  imagine  a  greater  contrast  in  type  of  the  same  flower 
than  between  Julius  Caesar  and  delicatissimay  for  instance:  the 
first  with  slender,  definitely  marked  falls  and  equally  well  de- 
fined standards,  the  second  of  a  delicate  lilac  color,  with  a  soft 
voluminousness  seen  in  almost  no  other  occupant  of  the  flower 
border. 

Why  consider  here  any  of  the  technical  points  of  classification 
of  the  iris?  Are  not  all  these  things  written  for  us  in  the  great 
Dykes  book,  where  "pogons"  and  "apogons"  and  all  other 
remote  and  difficult  things  are  as  the  writer's  daily  food.''  Does 
not  the  American  Iris  Society  cover  for  us  all  the  abstruse 
points  concerning  this  flower  of  the  rainbow?  Why  concern 
ourselves  with  too  much  learning,  when  two  sources  as  infallible 
as  these  are  present  for  our  use?  No  one  should  minimize  the 
importance  of  accurate  botanical  knowledge  of  plants  and 
flowers.  No  one  can  collect,  be  it  ever  so  hesitatingly  and  little, 
without  going  to  authorities  and  learning  to  classify.  But  here 
I  wish  to  emphasize  the  beauty  of  certain  forms  and  colors  in 
the  iris,  and  especially  to  dwell  upon  the  enormous  decorative 
value  of  the  flower  for  gardens. 

Let  me  set  dowTi  for  my  own  satisfaction  the  names  of  a  few 
varieties  which,  in  our  garden,  have  shown  themselves  strikingly 
interesting  and  strikingly  lovely.  But  first  let  me  speak  one 
word  of  gratitude  to  such  hybridizers  as  Miss  Sturtevant,  Mr. 


18  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

Fryer,  and  Mr.  B.  H.  Farr,  three  Americans  who  have  created 
marvels  of  beauty  for  us  in  this  great  race  of  flowers.  I  look 
forward  this  year  with  intensity  of  interest  to  the  first  blooming 
of  Miss  Sturtevant's  new  hybrid,  Mother  o'  Pearl.  What  may 
we  not  expect  of  an  iris  from  such  hands,  and  bearing  a  name  so 
filled  with  color?  Perry's  Blue,  too,  said  to  be  the  bluest  of  the 
sibiricas,  is  another  anticipated  beauty  of  the  year.  Edouard 
Michel  is  of  a  warm  wine-red  hue;  Isoline  (a  Vilmorin  hybrid) 
has  standards  of  silvery  lilac,  falls  of  purplish  old  rose,  a 
golden  throat,  yellow  beard.  (I  take  these  descriptions  from 
the  list  of  the  Mo  villa  gardens,  as  in  all  matters  of  color  I  see 
eye-to-eye  with  Mr.  Wister,  the  Secretary  of  the  American  Iris 
Society,  whose  descriptions,  or  Mr.  Boyd's,  these  undoubtedly 
are.)  Lent  A.  Williamson  has  but  once  bloomed  for  me.  It  is  a 
very  fine  iris,  but  not  so  surprisingly  beautiful  in  its  tones  of 
violet  and  purple  as  I  had  been  led  to  expect.  However,  I  have 
seen  only  a  first-year  spike. 

Monsignor  and  Crusader  —  two  glories  in  tall  bearded  irises, 
both  of  which  have  done  well  with  me;  Blue  Boy,  from  Wallace 
of  England,  a  delightful,  very  bluish  flower;  Mrs.  Horace  Dar- 
win, an  early  white  with  violet  markings;  Sherwin- Wright,  the 
clear  yellow  so  valuable  for  use  with  lovely  violet  flowers  such 
as  Geranium  grandiflorum,  the  purple  cranesbill;  two  of  Farr's, 
Juniata  and  Windham,  the  first  a  clear  lavender-blue,  "deeper 
than  dalmatica" ;  the  second  a  beautiful  lavender-pink  —  these 
should  be  in  all  gardens.  I  have  a  desire  to  experiment  with 
Iris  Kochii,  an  Italian  native  iris,  said  to  be  of  a  rich,  clear 
purple.  I  doubt  if  it  can  rival  a  little  marvel  of  a  flower,  Perry's 
Richard  II,  the  richest,  darkest,  most  pansy-like  iris  I  have 
seen.  This  is  a  small  flower  but  startling  in  purple  beauty.  So 
far  as  I  know,  only  a  few  people  have  it  in  this  country. 

My  pen  has  touched  upon  these  individual  irises  as  casually 


VARIETY  IN  FLOAVERS  OF  EARLY  SUMMER    19 

as  their  visiting  butterfly  might  do.  There  has  been  no  attempt 
to  give  even  tlie  suggestion  of  a  list  or  group.  Yet  in  association 
with  other  flowers  lies  surely  one  of  the  most  delicious  uses  of  the 
iris.  A  picture  in  waiting  of  an  English  iris-garden  in  June  de- 
lightfully haunts  me.  "A  shadow-checkered  lawn  sloping  away 
to  the  margin  of  the  woodland.  Broad  grassy  ways  lead  the 
vision  onward  toward  clearings  through  which  the  distant  land- 
scape becomes  focused  pictures.  Between  the  trim  niceties  of 
mown  lawn  and  wilder  woodland  the  ground  has  been  tamed  as 
it  were  to  a  natural  wildness.  Broad  masses  of  irises  have  been 
planted  along  each  ascending  pathway,  with  broad  carpetings  of 
catmint  (Nepeia  mussini).  Stately  lupines  assist  the  later  irises 
in  breaking  up  any  possible  monotony  of  contour;  Erigerons 
supply  pink  and  buff  and  lavender-blue,  and  a  wealth  of  gray 
foliage  has  been  distributed  with  lavish  hand.  Here  is  a  soft 
color  group  of  rose-amber  and  lavender-purple:  Her  Majesty, 
Miriam,  Phyllis  Bliss,  Sincerity,  Troost,  Monsieur  Aymard,  and 
Da\^-n,  with  a  gray  carpeting  of  Artemisia  stelleriana.  In  a  group 
near  by  is  a  purple  and  gold  combination  composed  of  the  giant 
Lord  of  June,  Othello,  Tamerlane,  Neptune,  Emir,  with  a  yellow 
lupine  and  Iris  germanica  aurea.  Then  there  is  a  sunset  group  in 
which  Eldorado,  Iris  King,  Nuee  d'Orage,  Nibelungen,  Mme. 
Blanche  Pion,  Marsh  Marigold,  Honorable,  and  Maori  King 
mingle  their  wonderful  and  indescribable  colors." 

Now  when  this  writer  goes  on  to  say  that,  earlier  in  the  season, 
these  long  wide  beds  were  bordered  with  the  Crimean  irises 
{Iris  pumila)  in  all  their  crocus-like  colors;  w^hen  he  tells  us  that, 
among  the  bearded  irises  of  the  named  groups  above,  many 
later  blooming  irises,  such  as  the  sihirica,  aurea,  Monnieri,  are 
showing  their  leaves  with  promise  of  fine  color  later,  and  that 
purple  tones  again  are  planned  for  autumn  by  the  interplanting 
of  many  hardy  asters  —  what  is  the  effect  upon  us?    I  know 


20  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

well,  fatally  well,  where  such  descriptions  send  me.  Headlong  I 
rush  for  W.  R.  Dykes's  little  volume  on  the  iris  in  the  "Present- 
Day  Gardening  Series."  I  take  down  the  same  writer's  great 
work.  The  Genus  Iris,  with  the  magnificent  color  plates;  I  get 
out  my  lists  from  dealers  where  the  very  names  themselves  give 
color  and  beauty  to  the  page.  I  betake  myself  to  the  literature 
of  the  American  Iris  Society  and,  as  Mr.  Phillpotts  says,  my 
lawful  heirs  are  likely  to  try  to  prevent  the  posting  of  the  written 
orders  that  ensue ! 

In  Mr.  Sidney  M.  Colgate's  garden,  mentioned  in  chapter  I, 
Iris  pallida  dalmatica  grows  in  association  with  a  bluish  lupine, 
and  one  of  the  flame-colored  varieties  of  oriental  poppy,  such  as 
Mary  Studholme  or  Kaiserin  Augusta  Victoria,  also  helps  to 
make  a  picture  here  in  June  flowers.  Stachys  lanata  gives  a  gray 
foreground  to  these  at  each  edge  nearest  the  paved  walks,  and 
later  bloom  before  and  back  of  the  irises  is  well  provided  for. 

Two  gardens  entirely  devoted  to  the  iris  are  well  known  to 
American  amateurs.  One  is  in  one  of  the  main-line  suburbs  of 
Philadelphia,  where  in  a  most  lovely  countryside,  circular  gar- 
dens devoted  to  this  extraordinarily  handsome  flower  stand  on 
dififerent  levels,  and  where  the  irises,  far  from  being  planted  at 
haphazard,  are  grouped  in  masses  according  to  type,  color,  and 
period  of  bloom.  This  is  as  fine  and  complete  a  collection  as  any 
that  we  boast,  and  from  every  standpoint  has  a  value.  The 
other  is  a  garden  of  these  flowers  at  Shrewsbury,  near  Worces- 
ter, Massachusetts.  Here  the  mistress  of  the  garden,  who 
loves  the  iris  above  all  other  things  that  bloom,  grows  it  not 
only  in  ordered  beds  and  borders  in  a  well-planned  formal  gar- 
den, but  sends  it  streaming  ofiF  along  a  brookside,  with  grass 
walks  separating  its  broad  masses  from  each  other.  There  is 
even  an  iris  cut  upon  the  surface  of  the  stone  sundial  in  that 
garden's  midst. 


VARIETY  IN  FLOWERS  OF  EARLY  SUMMER    21 

Not  one  word  has  been  said  of  the  iris  as  a  cut  flower.  But 
how  can  I  refrain,  for  now  before  me  stands  a  jar  of  pale  Italian 
paste,  holding  cottage  tulip  Mrs.  Kerrell,  a  flower  of  an  ele- 
gance and  of  a  tone  of  clear  pink  such  as  no  other  tulip  possesses, 
with  a  blue  base  which  relates  it  to  iris  Juniata,  its  companion 
in  this  group  (an  iris  more  nearly  blue  than  any  of  the  germanicas 
that  I  know),  and  long  sprays  of  the  pearly  buds  of  Deutzia 
lemoinei.  As  tulip  IVIrs.  Kerrell  grows  old,  it  seems  to  take  on 
also  a  bluish  cast,  and  this  is  perhaps  partly  the  reason  for  its 
beauty  used  with  iris  Juniata. 

We  have  had  an  odd  experience  with  iris  Blue  Boy,  which  is 
a  fine  early  germanica  from  Wallace  of  England.  In  August  of 
last  year  we  were  transplanting  as  usual.  A  large  root  of  this 
was  lifted  and  laid  in  the  upper  garden  imder  a  Norway  maple. 
Then  it  was  forgotten.  Yesterday,  the  twenty-third  of  May,  I 
went  to  that  spot  for  something,  and  was  amazed  to  see  not 
only  that  the  plant  was  alive,  but  that  no  less  than  thirty  mag- 
nificent purple  flowers  were  in  full  bloom.  And  this  iris  had 
been  for  nine  months,  and  throughout  the  winter,  on  top  of  the 
ground!  This  is  the  first  of  my  germanicas  to  bloom,  except 
Mrs.  Alan  Gray;  and  to  come  suddenly  upon  that  in  a  forgotten 
corner,  hidden  by  shrubs,  with  the  beauteous  bluish-mauve 
flowers  set  off  by  tulip  retroflexa  in  full  loveliness  beside  it,  is  to 
rejoice  again  that  those  flowers  had  long  since  found  their  way 
to  this  garden. 

Somewhere  I  have  seen  the  following  mention  of  a  color- 
grouping  of  the  iris  with  other  flowers,  one  that  I  should  like 
much  to  try,  myself.  It  was  this:  Iris  Mrs.  Neubronner  and 
I.  Innocenza,  wallflowers  before  and  among  them,  yellow  violas 
below.  The  first  named  iris  is  of  a  very  deep  golden  yellow; 
Innocenza  is  ivory  white ;  the  wallflowers,  with  their  rich  orange 
and  orange-reds  and  their  delicate  forms,  would  give  remarkable 


22  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

contrast  among  the  irises;  and  as  for  violas,  those  pansy-looking 
things,  they  are  among  our  best  spring-flowering  subjects. 
Someone  may  say,  "  We  cannot  grow  wallflowers  in  this  country." 
Yes,  with  a  little  trouble,  we  can.  The  seed  should  be  sown  in 
July,  the  little  plants  twice  transplanted  and  pinched  back  to 
form  stocky  subjects;  they  should  be  wintered  in  cold-frames, 
and  bloom  will  not  fail  in  late  spring,  or  early  summer  after 
these  are  set  out  in  the  open.  Violas  are  like  pansies  in  their 
requirements,  their  habits :  Mr.  Cuthbertson's  small  book  in  the 
"Present-Day  Gardening  Series,"  Pansies,  Violas,  and  Violets, 
has  all  the  cultural  points  needed  for  growing  these  flowers,  as 
well  as  charming  pictures  in  color  of  all  three  kinds. 

I  am  sending  in  an  order  for  a  few  plants  of  that  remarkable 
new  yellow  rose  offered  this  season  in  America  for  the  first  time. 
Souvenir  de  Claudius  Pernet.  This  rose  is  considered  "  the  best 
yellow  rose  so  far  introduced  for  the  garden."  It  is  a  Pernetiana 
seedling.  Somewhere  I  have  seen  a  complaint  of  its  overthorny 
stem;  but  what  of  that?  The  rose,  from  the  descriptions  and 
from  the  plates,  is  of  a  lovely  tone  of  clear  yellow,  and  is  said 
not  to  turn  white  at  the  edges  as,  to  our  regret,  many  of  us 
have  seen  our  yellow  roses  do. 

The  coming  distribution  of  this  rose  in  our  gardens  must  bring 
to  us,  by  its  very  name,  feelings  of  friendship,  admiration  and 
sympathy.  As  I  have  said.  Souvenir  de  Claudius  Pernet  is  a 
seedling  developed  and  named  by  the  great  Pernet  himself,  the 
friend  of  our  own  Admiral  Aaron  Ward,  who  says  of  him,  "Per- 
net occupies  indeed  a  position  peculiarly  his  own  in  the  esteem 
of  his  fellow  rosarians.  Perhaps  this  will  account  for  the  very 
widespread  sympathy  extended  to  him  in  these  days  of  deep 
personal  affliction.  His  eldest  son  and  intended  successor, 
Claude,  a  young  man  very  much  like  his  father  in  personal 
charm  of  manner,  was  killed  in  battle,  last  October,  and  his  only 


VARIETY  IN  FLOWERS  OF  EARLY  SU]MMER    23 

remaining  son  has  since  been  taken."  Souvenir  de  Claudius 
Fernet  is  more,  much  more  than  a  beautiful  creation  in  roses. 
It  is  the  dearest  of  tributes  by  a  noble  father  to  a  noble  son. 

It  is  this  association  of  flowers  with  glorious  deeds,  with  all 
the  beauty  of  the  past  and  present,  which  makes  the  names  of 
flowers  into  little  pathways  of  rewarding  thought.  "\Mio  can 
gaze  upon  the  rose  called  Juliet  and  repeat  to  himself  that  name, 
without  a  sense  of  romance,  of  tragedy,  of  all  the  Italian  scene? 
Who  can  see  the  picture  of  rose  Dr.  Van  Fleet,  without  a  sigh 
of  pity  for  us  all  that  this  modest,  unassuming,  really  great  man 
in  the  world  of  flowers  is  no  more? 

To  return  to  his  rose  —  one  of  the  many  beauties  of  this  pale- 
pink  hardy  climber  is  that  each  blossom  is  borne  on  a  stem 
twelve  to  eighteen  inches  long,  and  is  perfect  for  use  as  a  cut 
flower  as  well  as  lovely  on  the  bush,  or  rather,  the  vine. 

Los  Angeles  is  a  rose  that  I  adore;  another  is  Mrs.  A.  R.  Wad- 
dell  ;  another,  Mme.  Edouard  Herriot.  And  by  the  name  of  this 
last  there  hangs  such  a  charming  tale  of  M.  Fernet,  told  again 
by  Admiral  Ward,  that  it  must  be  repeated  here. 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  1912,  at  the  London  Horticultural 
Society's  International  Show.  "The  London  Daily  Mail"  says 
Admiral  Ward,  "had  offered  a  gold  cup  for  the  best  seedling 
rose  of  the  show,  coupled  with  the  condition  that  it  should  be 
named  after  the  paper.  The  jury  unanimously  awarded  its 
medal  to  Madame  Edouard  Herriot  as  the  best  seedling.  But 
when  it  came  to  the  question  of  changing  the  name  to  qualify 
for  the  Daily  Mail  cup,  Fernet  quietly  remarked :  *  In  my  coun- 
try, we  do  not  de-baptize  a  lady.  That  rose  remains  Madame 
Herriot.'  And  Madame  Herriot  it  is.  But  he  got  his  cup  all 
the  same." 

And  now  with  what  pleasure  I  set  before  the  reader  a  picture 
of  a  rose-garden  in  England.   Tell  me  if  you  have  seen  before 


24  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

anything  to  approach  the  unique  beauty  of  this  scene  at  Dowdes- 
well  Court,  near  Andoversford,  Gloucestershire.  A  paneled  pic- 
ture it  is,  framed  by  tall  tree-trunks,  and  showing  a  delicious 
vista  of  circular  rose-garden  and  rising  park-land  beyond,  with 
a  superbly  rounding  tree  —  possibly  an  oak  —  just  over  the 
garden's  clipped  hedge  of  yew,  to  carry  out  the  curves  of  the 
little  garden  itself.  No  situation  for  a  garden  could,  I  believe, 
bring  with  it  more  of  interest  than  this;  from  its  very  placing 
this  garden  has  a  cherished  look,  a  look  as  of  something  dear 
and  precious;  it  was  a  happy  thought  of  owner  or  designer  to 
use  for  such  a  purpose  the  level  spot  in  the  depression  between 
two  gently  rising  slopes.  The  garden  lies  some  thirty  feet  below 
the  point  from  which  we  see  it;  a  rock  garden  holds  the  inter- 
vening slope,  and  in  the  rose-garden  these  are  the  subjects 
grown:  Caroline  Testout,  J.  B.  Clark,  Mme.  Abel  Chatenay, 
Liberty,  Pharisaer,  and  Frau  Karl  Druschki.  The  three  circles 
or  rings  of  beds  may  be  plainly  seen;  those  of  the  outer  circle 
are  connected  by  four  balancing  arches,  whereon  are  Dorothy 
Perkins  and  American  Pillar  —  the  rambler  Professor  Sargent  so 
admires.  In  the  centre  is  a  lily  pool  with  its  foimtain.  For  my- 
self, I  can  think  of  no  greater  pleasure  in  life  than  first  to  have 
had  some  part  in  the  conception,  the  creating  of  such  a  garden, 
and  then  to  be  able  to  lead  one's  friends  or  guests,  on  a  day  in 
an  English  June,  to  such  a  spot  as  Mr.  Malby  has  chosen  here 
for  his  picture. 

Of  the  gathering  and  arranging  of  roses  there  is  too  much  to 
be  said  for  the  space  allowed  me  here;  but  this  I  think  is  univer- 
sally held  wise  —  that  roses  should  be  arranged  only  with  their 
own  beautiful  buds,  "the  rosebud  ripening  to  the  rose,"  and 
their  own  foliage;  and  that,  because  of  their  rounding  shape, 
low  bowls  are  their  best  receptacles  —  bowls,  or  baskets  with 
linings  for  water.  No  rose  that  I  have  seen,  however,  but  is  en- 


M.  C  State  C«Ue«« 


A  Rose  Garden  in  Gloucestershire,  England 


VARIETY  IN  FLOWERS  OF  EARLY  SUMMER    25 

hanced  a  little  by  a  cluster  of  single  or  double  Gypsophila  very 
carefully  used,  or,  in  winter,  by  a  touch  of  Steina  or  the  graceful 
Bouvardia,  that  flower  now  again  in  favor  after  a  lapse  of  years. 
The  windows  of  our  best  florists  in  winter  show  the  most  en- 
chanting companies  of  flowers  together  —  deep  purple  pansies 
with  rose  Ophelia  for  example,  palest  lavender  sweet -peas  with 
roses  of  like  hue;  yet  such  suggestions  will  not  do  for  northern 
gardens. 

For  the  cutting  of  roses,  prune  as  you  cut;  shape  your  bushes 
as  you  use  the  shears.  The  o^Tier  of  a  rose-garden  is  forced  to 
generosity;  he  does  not  care  to  see  his  flowers  perish  on  the  stem. 
And  here  I  must  quote  a  delicious  sentence  from  an  English 
friend  on  the  subject  of  rose-giving:  "When  you  cut  roses  to 
give  away,  you  cannot  go  wrong  if  you  select  those  you  would 
prefer  to  keep,  though  this  is  a  counsel  of  perfection  and  too 
Christian  for  general  practice." 

While  the  iris  and  the  rose  are  perhaps  the  flowers  of  most 
importance  for  the  little  garden's  early  summer  moments,  they 
are  accompanied  by  so  many  lesser  beauties  in  flowers  that  we 
can  only  name  these  and  pass  on.  Here  on  the  march  down  our 
simimer  borders  are  foxgloves  and  Canterbury  bells;  the  lace- 
like white  valerian ;  the  noble  peony  in  its  present-day  grandeur 
of  type  and  unbelievably  beautiful  color;  earliest  delphiniimis 
such  as  Belladonna;  early  perennial  phloxes  like  the  Arendsii  and 
Miss  Lingard;  the  hardy  pinks  with  their  sweet  scent  of  spice, 
their  gray-leaved  patterns  in  the  garden  —  the  list  is  endless, 
and  this  mention  must  suflSce  us  here. 

If  seed  of  annual  poppies  is  sown  the  autumn  before,  they 
may  be  counted  upon  for  early  summer  bloom.  One  of  the 
pleasant  international  happenings  this  spring  was  the  gift  to  me, 
in  a  letter,  of  nine  different  varieties  of  annual  poppy  seed  from 
an  English  authority  and  friend.  These  to-day  —  early  July  — 


26  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE   GARDEN 

are  in  full  beauty;  and  while  the  colors  are  mixed  (for  the  seed 
was  planted  in  rows  near  each  other  in  the  trial  garden),  the 
colors  and  forms  of  some  of  them  are  so  particularly  good  that 
they  serve  to  remind  one  of  the  beauty  of  Shirley  poppies  for 
variety  in  the  garden.  Here  is  for  instance,  one,  almost  like  a 
miniature  peony  of  rose-type,  very  large,  flat,  with  outer  petals; 
all  the  inner  part  of  this  flower  is  very  double,  and  of  the  most 
delicious  shell-pink;  and  all  are  held  together  by  one  of  those 
little  buttons  of  pistils  and  stamens  of  a  pallid  green  which  give 
such  interesting  centres  in  both  color  and  form.  Another  of 
these  entrancing  Shirleys  is  made  up  of  four  large  thick  petals; 
these  are  white  at  the  edges,  the  rest  of  the  flower  stained  in  that 
tone  known  as  ashes  of  roses,  a  dull  or  faded  rose.  The  pistil  in 
this  case  stands  well  up  from  the  flower,  and  the  corona  of 
stamens  is  of  a  pale  brown,  lovely  with  the  dull  rose  of  the  poppy. 
Also  here  is  a  third  of  striking  beauty.  This  is  a  very  large 
white  poppy,  the  edges  of  whose  four  petals  are  margined  with 
most  vivid  pink,  almost  a  carmine.  Others  of  these  poppies  are 
broad  white  singles,  with  bands  half-an-inch  wide  of  pale  rose 
at  the  edge;  large  pure  white  doubles  with  what  seem  thou- 
sands of  tiny  silken  tongues  composing  the  flower;  immense 
globes  of  a  vivid  light  scarlet;  others  of  palest  salmon-pink, 
cream- white  at  the  top  of  the  flower  —  all  with  the  heavy  blue- 
green  foliage,  the  nodding  bud,  the  handsome  seed-pod.  Out 
of  such  a  pod  a  little  Norwegian  maid  once  taught  me  to  make 
a  teapot,  with  one  inch-long  twig  for  the  spout,  a  hooped  one 
stuck  in  opposite  for  the  handle,  and  the  fine  brown  fluted  top 
of  the  poppy  seed-pod  for  the  teapot's  base. 

There  were  other  tones  of  pink  in  this  fine  row  of  poppies,  all 
verging  upon  the  yellow-pinks.  Never  have  I  seen  such  immense 
Shirleys,  never  finer  opium  poppies  than  these.  True,  there  were 
some  small  Shirleys  of  a  dull,  rather  uninteresting  lavender. 


VARIETY  IN  FLOWERS  OF  EARLY  SUIVIMER  27 
almost  a  gray:  these  I  at  once  pulled  up,  lest  the  seed  take  hold 
upon  ground  much  needed  for  better  things.  One  cannot  give 
too  much  space  to  the  poppy  in  the  formal  garden;  it  is  too 
ephemeral.  It  vanishes  in  a  night.  But  I  have  always  found  that 
its  quick  replacing  of  itself  by  itself,  the  prompt  following  of 
the  fallen  petal  by  the  newly  opened  flower,  makes  of  it  a  much 
more  permanent  occupant  of  the  border,  in  the  way  of  flowering 
things,  than  is  the  case  with  many  other  annuals.  These  from 
England  were  most  beautiful  as  they  stood  in  a  gay  multitude 
with  Cephalarla  tossing  its  pale  yellow  heads  into  the  air  be- 
yond them,  the  green  of  damask  roses  back  of  those,  and  twenty 
feet  beyond,  the  carved  birds  and  lattices  of  the  little  tea  house, 
seen  between  ha^\-thorns  whose  leaves  glistened  in  the  late  sun- 
light of  an  evening  in  July. 

Beyond  these  poppies  are  great  heads  of  Delphinium  seed 
with  still  a  fewer  lower  spikes  of  blue.  These  are  the  tall  vari- 
eties, Lloyd  George,  General  Baden-Powell,  Clemenceau  (and 
magnificent  they  are)  from  Kelway's  seed.  A  few  Clarkia  plants 
are  not  far  off.  If  I  had  space,  this  is  a  flow^er  that  I  should  sow 
for  succession  of  bloom,  exactly  as  one  does  peas  for  that  good 
vegetable.  No  flower  excels  the  Clarkia  for  cutting;  none  is  so 
gracefid  in  water  or  so  lasting  within  doors.  Its  peachlike  pink 
is  delightful:  its  nice  purplish  or  cool  pink  blooms  are  highly 
interesting  in  association  with  the  violet  annual  larkspur;  and 
this  is  true  of  planting  as  of  the  use  of  the  cut  flower. 

And  now  for  the  opiirni  poppy :  to  look  down  on  the  magnifi- 
cent heads  of  this  palest  cream-pink  poppy  is  an  experience. 
Flower  tufts  were  never  so  tightly  packed  as  these.  A  firm  pale 
green  case,  splitting  in  two  as  the  flower  develops,  holds  this 
color  and  softness  imprisoned  till  such  time  as  it  opens  into  the 
great  fluffy  beauty  of  the  poppy,  and  every  bud  is  held  erect, 
expectant,  ready  for  that  moment.   Not  far  from  these  flowers 


28  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

stands  a  single  plant  of  phlox,  A  Mercie,  in  full  lavender  beauty, 
and  this  by  chance  has  for  its  neighbor  a  line  (for  trial)  of  various 
kinds  of  Hemerocallis,  of  which  Thunbergii  and  Kwanso  are  in 
bloom.  The  yellows  of  these  lilies,  light  and  dark,  are  nice 
beyond  and  with  the  phlox. 

Looking  down  one  of  the  little  grassy  aisles  of  the  formal 
garden,  I  see  the  buds,  flowers,  and  seed  pods  of  my  own  beauty 
of  a  rose-pink  poppy  never  so  tall  and  fine  as  this  year.  Very 
beautiful  it  is  thrusting  its  head  through  gypsophilas  —  lovely 
below  Delphinium  Moerheimii,  with  white  petunias  and  the  little 
viola  known  as  Johnny-jump-up  below  these.  Nothing  however 
in  the  garden,  this  month,  has  pleased  me  more  than  a  chance 
association  of  delphinium  Belladonna,  which  by  a  special  horti- 
cultural dispensation  has  held  over  its  bloom  well  into  the  time 
of  Phlox  decussata.  There  it  stands  in  all  its  pale  beauty,  above 
the  white  rounds  of  Tapis  Blanc  and  with  the  lavender  of  E. 
Danzanvilliers  back  of  it.  Of  little  use  it  is  to  plan  this  grouping; 
the  delphinium  normally  is  far  too  early  for  the  phlox.  But  I 
rejoice  in  this  enchanting  color-grouping  of  flowers  as  it  stands 
here. 

The  long  shadows  fall  on  the  fresh-clipped  breadths  of  hedge; 
on  the  smooth  squares  of  grass;  on  slim  white  Regal  lilies,  rising 
above  snowy  mounds  of  phlox;  on  the  little  brown-tipped 
brushes  of  sea-lavender  about  to  bloom;  on  the  low  cushions  of 
Dianthus  cosspitosa  and  Heuchera's  rich  foliage.  A  late  and 
sleepy  bee  weighs  down  a  dome  of  lavender  phlox;  the  last  birds 
twitter,  and  soon  color  will  leave  the  garden,  and  the  fragrance 
of  lilies,  of  heliotrope,  of  phloxes,  take  its  place. 


Ill 

VARIETY  IN  ANNUAL  FLOWERS 

Gazing  in  spring  at  the  veil  of  peach  and  plum  blossoms  in 
the  Tennessee  momitains,  one's  thoughts  turn  affectionately  to 
one's  o\\-n  garden,  that  pole  toward  which  the  heart  of  the 
gardener  is  ever  true,  and  while  no  shoot  is  now  daring  the 
weather  of  the  Michigan  March,  the  buds  and  flowers  all  about 
one  give  heartening  evidence  of  what  will  be  later  seen  at  home; 
also  much  may  always  be  learned  from  a  temporary  dwelling- 
place. 

Annuals  form  a  large  part  of  the  summer  beauty  in  the  gardens 
of  eastern  Tennessee;  the  season  as  far  south  as  this  is  apt  to  be 
hot  and  dry,  and  the  mountain  gardens  are  rather  too  well 
drained  for  the  satisfaction  of  their  ambitious  ow^ners.  Alto- 
getlier  lovely  in  March  are  these  gardens  with  daffodils,  violets, 
Thunberg's  Spiraea,  Forsythia,  jonquils,  and  fruit  blossoms. 
Jasminum  nudiflorum  blooms  in  January,  sometimes  even  at 
Christmas.  All  irises  do  well.  Iris  gertnanica  blooms  the  first  of 
April;  roses  come  in  April  and  May.  The  Dianthus  is  specially 
good  in  this  region.  One  garden  club  is  this  year  keeping  a 
flowery  calendar,  that  the  times  of  bloom  of  the  various  occu- 
pants of  their  gardens  may  be  recorded.  Delphiniums  are  diffi- 
cult to  grow  in  the  warm  Tennessee  climate,  but  sweet  peas, 
though  short-lived,  flourish  early  and  beautifully;  dahlias  and 
chrysanthemums  are  gloriously  at  home;  so  are  the  hardy  phloxes 
and  nearly  all  of  the  better  known  perennials.  Annuals  are  a 
prop  and  mainstay  the  summer  through. 

The  best  plan  for  simple  gardening,  where  people  are  renting 
a  small  house  and  grounds,  is  a  border  of  bulbs  and  annuals; 


30  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

and  here  are  the  reasons:  bulbs,  to  use  Mr.  Wemmick's  time- 
honored  phrase,  are  "portable  property."  They  can  be  lifted, 
stored  in  a  small  space,  and  carried  to  the  next  abode  if  people 
must  move.  Annuals  cost  only  for  the  seeds,  and  very  early  may 
be  counted  upon  to  cover  the  drying  leaves  of  tulip  and  daffodil. 
Miss  Jekyll  somewhere  suggests  that  bulbs  and  annuals  in  a 
long  narrow  border  be  planted  in  long  shaped  drifts,  alternating 
with  each  other;  that,  for  blue  or  bluish  flowers  to  use  in  such 
places,  Didiscus  asperula  azurea,  Nigella  anagallis,  Convolvulus 
minor  be  the  subjects;  for  white,  Argemone,  Jacobea,  annual 
Gypsophila,  and  the  white  annual  flax,  Linaria;  for  yellows, 
dwarf  nasturtiums  and  Eschscholtzias;  and  for  pinks  and  reds, 
Saponaria  as  well  as  poppies  in  variety.  Some  of  these  things 
are  hardly  known  to  us;  yet  seed  can  be  obtained,  and  in  parts 
of  our  country  they  will  surely  reward  the  daring  gardener 
who  is  not  afraid  of  the  unknown. 

To  this  list  I  should  always  add  annual  larkspur,  especially  in 
lavenders  and  purples.  This  would  look  well  among  any  or  all 
of  these  annual  plants.  I  sometimes  think  that  a  border  of 
scarlet  and  lavender  annuals  would  be  an  entrancing  experi- 
ment: scarlet  poppies  with  lavender- violet  colors,  to  be  suc- 
ceeded by  a  good  Ageratum,  the  poppies  to  be  followed  by  some 
one  of  the  best  varieties  of  scarlet  annual  salvia,  among  which 
successive  sowings  of  lavender  and  violet  larkspurs  and  possibly 
a  touch  in  the  foreground  of  scarlet  geranium  would  look  ex- 
tremely well.  To  relieve  the  level  of  height  in  all  these,  an  early 
lavender  sweet  pea,  such  as  Wedgewood,  or  a  few  hardy  asters, 
judiciously  placed,  would  add  great  interest  to  an  uncommon 
color  arrangement. 

While  I  have  never  tried  this  plan  that  occurs  to  me  just  now, 
it  should  take  no  coiu-age  at  all  to  undertake  it.  The  only  peren- 
nial is  the  hardy  aster,  and  the  only  plant  which  must  be  bought, 


VARIETY  IN  ANNUAL  FLOWERS  31 

the  geranium.  It  is  almost  mmecessary  —  but  not  quite  —  to 
add  that  the  lavenders  and  violets  of  all  the  flowers  used  should 
be  particularly  clear,  not  muddy  or  uncertain,  and  that  the 
scarlets  should  be  flaming  ones. 

For  a  long  time  it  has  been  the  fashion  among  good  amateur 
gardeners  to  condemn  the  geranium  as  a  flower  for  gardens. 
The  reason  is  that  for  many  years  nothing  had  been  seen  in 
public  gardens,  and  in  some  private  ones,  but  the  scarlet  gera- 
nium with  the  canna  and  the  scarlet  sage.  It  was  this  bad  use 
of  the  geranium  that  was  its  undoing.  So  it  has  been  with  the 
canna  till  just  now,  when  a  new  time  seems  to  be  approaching 
for  these  flowers.  In  watching  the  ordinary  canna-plantings 
of  this  country,  I  have  come  to  look  for  their  accomplices,  — 
scarlet  salvias,  blue  spruces,  golden-leaved  shrubs,  —  all  that 
array  of  stuff  which  those  who  do  not  stand  high  as  landscape- 
gardeners  (and  how  many  these  are  to-day,  when  the  art  is 
taught  by  correspondence  courses,  or  supposed  to  be  learned  in 
the  nursery  business)  palm  off  upon  the  public.  The  round  bed 
of  canras  bespeaks  a  third-rate  taste  in  gardening.  Most  of 
this  type  of  the  use  of  the  canna  in  our  towns  is  due  to  certain 
florists'  books  w^hich  to  this  day  show  forth  designs  for  plantings 
of  detached  round  beds  of  these  plants;  some  of  our  best  seeds- 
men too  still  publish  such  plans  for  bulbs.  It  is  a  pity!  It  is  a 
great  chance  for  beauty,  missed.  The  florist  teaches  his  men 
to  use  these  designs;  our  city  parks  are  filled  with  the  results; 
the  wrong  object  lesson  is  given  to  a  neighborhood;  the  wrong 
thing  spreads  like  wildfire. 

Many  small  railway  stations  have  rectangular  parks,  sup- 
posed to  be  well  set  off  by  a  circle  of  cannas,  scarlet  and  yellow. 
These  beds  are  probably  copied  in  the  town  by  the  Carnegie 
Library,  the  Towm  Hall,  the  village  park,  the  individual  house- 
holder. One  of  the  two  powerful  trade  journals  of  this  country. 


S2  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

in  an  issue  two  years  ago  gave  twelve  columns  to  the  subject 
of  the  canna,  attracted  to  this  topic  by  the  sight  of  twenty-two 
thousand  cannas  in  full  bloom  at  Washington  in  August.  I 
quote:  "Each  bed  noted  was  a  solid  mass  of  one  color.  .  .  . 
There  is  no  flower  which  so  well  fills  the  decorative  situation  for 
large  buildings  as  does  the  canna." 

Now  how  much  easier  and  pleasanter  to  discourse  upon  the 
right  use  of  the  canna;  for  every  growing  thing  has  its  right  use. 
I  recall  Miss  Marcia  Hale's  lovely  placing  and  grouping  of  the 
bronze-leaved  type  in  a  columnar  effect,  to  flank  trellis-openings 
against  a  distant  prospect,  in  the  garden  of  Miss  Porter's  school 
at  Farmington;  Miss  Jekyll's  nice  planting  of  cannas  with  scarlet 
geraniums  in  a  decorative  manner  in  the  early  days  of  Munstead 
Wood;  charming  arrangements  of  the  pale  yellow  and  flame-pink 
varieties  in  the  gardens  of  our  own  amateurs,  in  combinations 
of  true  felicity  with  other  flowers.  This  is  meant  to  be  a  diatribe 
only  against  the  improper,  the  unsuitable,  use  of  the  flower. 

The  canna's  subtropic  look  makes  it  difficult  for  use  in  the 
temperate  zone  in  all  but  the  cleverest  hands.  And  because  it 
is  the  tall  scarlet  canna  which  is  so  monstrously  misplaced  by 
many  gardening  hands  to-day,  I  would  draw  attention  here  to 
the  wonderful  possibilities  for  garden  use  of  the  new  Wintzer 
hybrids  in  cannas.  These  beauties  are  as  yet  unknown  to  me, 
but  I  shall  not  be  long  without  them.  Mr.  J.  H.  McFarland, 
writing  lately  of  these  newer  cannas,  is  filled  with  enthusiasm 
over  them.  "These  Wintzer  cannas,"  says  the  letter,  "provide 
an  absolutely  new  power  for  color  harmony  and  for  color  con- 
trast in  the  garden.  If  you  know  the  varieties,  Cupid,  Mrs. 
Pierre  du  Pont,  Edward  Bok,  Apricot,  and  a  dozen  other  cannas 
in  soft  tones  of  chamois-pink,  fawn  and  the  like,  and  if  you  have 
seen  how  a  clear  orange  sort  with  wavy  petals  and  good  green 
foliage  fits,  you  will  be  ready  to  consider  also  some  exquisite 


VARIETY  IN  ANNUAL  FLOWERS  33 

unnamed  cannas.  These  shade  from  the  clearest  lemon-yellow 
to  the  faintest  primrose  in  the  same  flower,  running  to  apricot 
and  related  hues."  All  this  is  pleasant  news  to  the  gardener; 
anything  really  fine,  and  lovely,  and  hitherto  unknowTi  is  worth 
the  trial,  and  these  descriptions  from  the  president  of  the  Ameri- 
can Rose  Society,  himself  a  fine  grower  of  many  flowers  beside 
roses,  should  set  us  toward  many  delightful  experiments  with 
the  canna. 

Harking  back  now  to  the  geranium,  where  can  we  find  a  more 
faithful  plant?  That  lovely  velvet  leaf,  now  all  green,  now 
zoned  with  cream-white,  or  even  with  rose  color!  Those  hand- 
some flowers,  single,  double,  rose  color,  salmon  pink,  flesh  pink, 
purest  white,  and  richest  crimson,  and  scarlet!  No  other  plant 
produces  such  blooms  and  with  such  steady  certainty. 

For  some  years  I  used  in  pots  out-of-doors,  as  color  accents 
for  a  certain  place,  a  niunber  of  plants  of  that  charming  flame- 
pink  geranimn,  Mrs.  E.  G.  Hill.  In  order  to  get  summer  bloom, 
we  kept  the  plants  in  pots,  indoors,  during  the  winter,  stripping 
all  the  stems  of  leaves  toward  January  and  allowing  them  to 
sprout  again  toward  May.  After  these  plants  were  set  out  in 
the  open  about  the  twenty-fifth  of  May,  flower  buds  soon  ap- 
peared, and  great  mounds  of  delicate  blossoms  renewed  by  fresh 
ones  were  constantly  produced.  My  suggestion  to  those  who 
have  fine  plants  of  geranimns  in  their  houses  is  to  strip  off  all 
the  leaves  about  three  months  before  the  outdoor  gardening 
season  opens;  then  use  the  plants  as  the  starting  point  in  flowers 
for  the  borders  or  beds  of  yom*  garden. 

Let  me  explain:  suppose  for  instance,  that  you  have  only 
scarlet  geraniums;  and  suppose,  also,  that  you  plan  a  small 
flower -border,  ten  feet  long  by  four  wide,  against  a  fence  or 
before  some  shrubs.  For  such  a  border,  always  remembering 
your  color  note  of  scarlet,  sow,  the  year  before,  seeds  of  palest 


34  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

yellow  hollyhocks  at  the  back;  have  one  or  two  plants  of  hardy 
Gypsophila  on  hand  for  the  middle  of  the  border,  four  or  five  feet 
apart;  use  all  the  pale  yellow,  cream- white  and  pale  lavender 
flowers  to  be  procured  for  the  further  filling  of  this  space.  Sea- 
lavender,  when  well  established,  is  a  delightful  neighbor  in  color 
and  form  for  the  scarlet  geranium;  so,  too,  are  pale  yellow  annual 
chrysanthemums,  pale  yellow  monkshood  {Aconitum  lycocto- 
num);  the  white  Campanula  persicifolia;  and  some  gray-leaved 
things  to  accompany  Heuchera  sanguinea  (Mexican  coral  bells) 
at  the  very  front  of  the  border,  the  gray  leaves  to  be  Nepeta 
Mussini,  Stachys  lanata,  and  the  hardy  pinks  (only  white- 
flowering  ones).  With  all  these  one  would  get  delightful  con- 
trasts of  color  and  form. 

But  why  do  I  dwell  so  long  on  the  scarlet  geranium  only? 
Those  I  should  suggest  are  the  beautiful  whites,  such  as  Madame 
Recamier;  the  lovely  salmon  pinks,  Beaute  Poitevine  and  Mrs. 
E.  G.  Hill;  the  new  rich  crimson,  Mrs.  Richard  F.  Gloede,  now 
so  happily  settled  in  our  own  garden  with  the  clustering  Agera- 
tum  fraseri  below  it  —  as  nice  an  arrangement  of  annual  or 
tender  flowers  as  one  could  see  anywhere. 

The  various  scented-leaf  geraniums  are  not  nearly  common 
enough  in  om*  gardens.  Seventeen  varieties  are  listed  by  one 
grower.  The  rose-geranium  is,  of  coiuse,  the  most  familiar. 
While  the  flowers  of  these  are  not  important,  their  forms  and 
fragrance  are.  Also,  by  growing  several  plants  of  the  same  genus 
or  species  we  become  —  in  a  small  way  —  collectors,  and  at 
once  grow  in  knowledge,  systematically  and  pleasantly. 

We  have  now  left  far  behind  the  subject  of  flowers  violet  and 
lavender  in  color,  yet  memory  turns  here  to  a  discussion  of  their 
use  by  Mr.  W.  Arnold-Forster,  whose  writing  is  always  a  de- 
light to  the  gardener  with  an  eye  for  effects  that  not  only  satisfy, 
but   kindle.     "If   you   associate,"   says   Mr.   Arnold-Forster, 


VARIETY  IN  ANNUAL  FLOWERS  35 

"  Thalictrum  dipterocarpum  and  Buddleia  with  Clematis  Jack- 
mannii  superha  or  C.  Gipsy  Queen,  you  get  a  magnificent  piece 
of  color,  but  it  is  helped  by  the  addition  of  Althea  ficifolia  sul- 
phurea,  or  by  a  good  pale  yellow  form  of  Gladiolus  primulinus" 
And  again,  "There  are  some  flower  colors  which  one  is  always 
trying  to  conquer  —  colors  which  are  wisely  discarded  as  almost 
impossible  to  use  well  in  the  garden.  Chief  among  these  are  the 
colder  pinks,  inclining  toward  violet,  and  the  color  which  the 
Victorians  wisely  enjoyed  when  it  was  called  'magenta,'  and 
which  the  post-Impressionists  have  also  made  good  use  of  under 
the  name  of  'fuchsia.'  Some  of  the  magenta  and  the  purple- 
violet  phloxes  can  be  made  to  look  magnificent  if  they  are 
properly  treated;  they  ought  to  be  in  half  shadow  with  bluish 
or  leaden  greens  and  creamy  white.  The  cool  pinks,  such  as  the 
pink  China  rose  and  Anemone  Queen  Charlotte,  are  also  good 
company  for  them." 

Authoritative  advice  such  as  this,  for  the  use  of  phloxes  re- 
verting to  magenta,  is  not  often  forthcoming;  and  this  is  par- 
ticularly valuable  and  stimulating.  Why  is  it,  though  —  this 
reversion  of  Phlox  decussata  to  the  color  of  the  type?  One  ex- 
planation is  that,  if  seeds  of  phloxes  are  allowed  to  fall,  they 
drop  between  stems  of  the  parent  plant  and  produce  the  next- 
year  seedlings,  whose  flower  has  a  magenta  hue.  Pinch  out,  says 
Mr.  Henry  Wild,  the  centre-flowers  of  your  phloxes  before  they 
seed,  if  you  want  to  keep  your  varieties  true.  It  is  my  own  ex- 
perience that  this  is  wise;  I  am  in  the  habit  of  cutting  all  bloom 
of  hardy  phlox  before  seeds  are  formed,  but  my  motive  is  dif- 
ferent —  it  is  the  producing  of  more  bloom,  and  the  preventing 
of  that  untidy  brownish  look  given  by  the  seed  pods  to  any 
quarter  of  the  garden  where  they  become  too  plentiful.  How- 
ever, the  result  is  good  in  the  direction  of  color  too,  for  I  very 
seldom  have  in  bloom  any  but  true  types  of  named  phloxes. 


36  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

A  new  poppy  is  Lord  Lambourne  with  wondrous  cuttings  and 
fringings  —  what  markings,  what  silken  stamens,  hke  a  silk  of 
heavy  pile,  a  flower  of  wonder!  It  is  an  Oriental  poppy,  scarlet 
and  black,  lately  introduced  by  Perry  in  England.  Also  the 
new  sweet  pea.  Picture,  must  be  noticed.  It  has  just  had  the 
award  of  merit  of  the  National  Sweet  Pea  Society  of  Great 
Britain,  and  is  of  a  creamy-pink  color.  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
like  the  name  "Picture,"  —  this  might  mean  anything,  —  it  is 
too  vague  to  apply  to  a  flower.  But  with  the  wonderful  advance 
made  during  the  last  few  years  in  sweet  peas  in  all  matters  of 
form,  color,  substance,  and  habit,  we  may  be  certain  that  this 
novelty  is  worth  trial.  Picture  is  a  remarkably  vigorous  grower, 
and  said  to  stand  hard  weather  with  a  degree  of  fortitude  un- 
common to  sweet  peas. 

Among  novelties,  though  they  are  now  at  hand  in  many 
gardens,  none  have  excited  more  interest  among  growers  and 
amateurs  than  the  hardy  pinks  from  the  firm  of  Allwood  in 
England.  Dianthus  Allwoodii  claims  many  merits,  not  the  least 
among  them  that  these  flowers  are  half  pink,  half  carnation. 
These  too  are  perennials. 

For  a  good  use  of  a  most  precious  annual  flower,  com- 
mend me  to  that  in  the  garden  of  Mrs.  Carr  at  Lake  Forest 
near  Chicago.  An  oblong  basin  or  pool  lies  quietly  within 
another  oblong  of  smooth  grass;  one  end  of  this  space  is  bounded 
by  the  house-terrace,  the  opposite  one  by  the  woods  of  a  deep 
ravine;  on  either  side  are  lines  of  well-clipped  dwarf  hedges  of 
evergreen  of  some  kind.  Three  or  four  feet  apart,  and  between 
these,  lie  long  breadths  of  violet  color  in  heliotrope  in  full  bloom. 
What  more  than  still  water,  long  level  lines  of  green,  the  low- 
toned  purple  of  heliotrope,  —  that  stealing  fragrance  of  helio- 
trope too,  —  what  more  than  these  can  give  the  feeling  of 
serenity  which  should  be  the  first  attribute  of  a  garden?  Nothing 


VARIETY  IN  ANNUAL  FLOWERS  37 

except,  as  in  this  case,  the  merging  of  this  picture  into  its  good 
background  of  tree-masses,  introduced  to  these,  in  a  way,  by- 
four  slender  evergreens  that  seem  to  guard  the  pool. 

As  I  mention  purple  flowers,  I  think,  of  course,  of  Clematis 
Jackmannii  and  of  the  lavender  clematises,  large-flowering  ones; 
of  these  I  shall  have  more  to  say  later  on;  but  two  pictures  come 
to  my  mind  in  connection  with  these.  One  is  a  border  of  which 
I  have  read,  of  yuccas  in  full  bloom  in  August,  with  pampas 
grass  between  them,  these  planted  together  in  rich  profusion 
in  a  wide  border  against  a  wall;  on  the  wall,  over  it,  mounting 
heaps  of  the  deep  violet  Clematis  Jackmannii,  back  of  the  cream 
white  of  the  sharp-cut  yuccas  and  the  feathery  heads  of  pampas 
flower.  I  have  long  had  this  clematis  on  an  arch  with  pink 
ramblers;  but  IVIr.  William  Robinson  grows  a  lovely  pale  laven- 
der one,  called  Perle  d'Azur,  on  stakes  among  large  bushes  of 
rose  Caroline  Testout.  Nothing  more  charming  in  June  can  be 
imagined  than  this  association  of  pink  and  lavender  in  flowers, 
unless  it  be  that  other  association  which  has  occiu-red  to  me 
this  summer  from  observation  of  my  own  plants  —  the  growing 
of  the  Sargent  rose  before  and  among  that  heavenly  lilac  with 
the  difficult  name  of  Sweginzowii  superba.  This  lilac  is  not  pink, 
but  of  a  singular  tone  of  ivory-white  with  a  slight  admixture  of 
flesh-color  through  its  delicate  blooms.  Ours  is  a  tree  of  dream- 
like beauty,  following  Syringa  villosa  in  bloom,  and  offering 
itself  as  the  most  perfect  possible  companion  for  cut  flowers 
such  as  peony  Marie  Crousse,  Venus,  Milton;  or  giving  an 
effect  to  delight  one  with  iris  Storm  King  and  the  Sargent  rose 
in  the  same  bowl  of  flowers. 

For  variety  in  the  little  garden,  however,  what  is  there  for 
midsummer  to  compare  with  annuals  at  their  finest  and  freshest, 
as  they  are  then?  As  I  WTite,  I  am  looking  at  some  of  the  most 
charming  of  annual  flowers,  blooming  brightly  in  our  own  bor- 


38  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

ders.  These  are  rose  color  and  blue  Godetia  and  Nigella;  and 
are  they  found  in  every  border  of  annuals?  I  doubt  it,  but  they 
should  be;  also  should  there  be  another  with  them,  Clarkia  by 
name.  Godetias  are  not  so  often  seen  in  American  gardens,  but 
they  are  very  beautiful  and  deserve  a  place,  especially  the  fine 
variety  known  as  Double  Rose.  For  those  who  want  pure  blue 
in  their  gardens  —  and  who  does  not?  —  Nigella  is  a  flower  of 
the  greatest  value.  The  variety  Miss  Jekyll  is  certainly  one 
of  the  most  important  of  pretty  annuals.  It  should  be  sown 
several  times  diu'ing  the  summer,  for  its  blooming-period  is  not 
long.  The  same  is  true  of  Godetia  (which  belongs,  though  pink, 
to  the  Evening  Primrose  family)  and  of  Clarkiay  whose  variety 
Salmon  Rose  will  make  you  think  that  in  August  you  have 
peach  blossoms.  I  often  take  up  one  whole  plant  of  Clarkia  in 
full  bloom  for  an  opaque  vase  or  bowl,  leaving  the  roots  in  the 
water.  The  shape  of  the  plant  is  so  graceful,  the  branches  spring 
so  charmingly  from  the  root  and  arch  so  lightly  under  their 
weight  of  flowers,  that  it  is  a  peculiarly  lovely  thing  to  observe 
at  close  range  in  the  house. 

I  like  so  much  the  great  mauve  candytuft  Lilac  Queen,  and 
the  white  variety  as  well.  This  mauve  is  a  favorite  of  mine 
with  the  nigella's  blue;  and  the  buff  Phlox  Drummondii,  if  one 
is  considering  a  small  harmonious  color  arrangement,  is  most 
lovely  near  the  other  two. 

No  garden  can  be  entirely  brilliant  or  effective  without  a 
copious  use  of  white  flowers;  some  of  pure  white  there  should 
be  for  the  high  lights  of  the  picture.  Nothing  is  clearer  in  the 
white  annuals  than  candytuft,  nothing  better  in  rich  plants  for 
edgings  than  sweet  alyssum,  though  too  much  of  this  last  is  a 
mistake.  Unless  a  very  formal  effect  of  straight  lines  in  the 
garden  is  aimed  at,  break  up  the  monotony  of  the  white-edged 
border  by  the  use  of  the  foliage  of  pinks  (hardy  pinks) ;  of  an- 


VARIETY  IN  ANNUAL  FLOWERS  39 

nual  stocks  with  their  handsome  leaves  of  gray;  of  that  fine 
perennial  Eeuchera,  with  its  dark  rounded  i\'y-like  leaves  that 
hug  the  ground  so  closely,  and  from  which  rise  in  June  such 
fascinating  coral-colored  flowers. 

In  a  border  of  annuals,  arranged  by  no  less  a  personage  in  the 
world  of  gardening  than  Miss  Jekyll  herself,  there  are  groupings 
which  we  should  do  well  to  bring  into  our  own  gardens.  For 
example,  near  the  edge  of  the  border  are  Eschscholtzia  with  sweet 
alyssum  before  it,  and  lemon-colored  African  marigold  back 
(the  tall  variety) ;  Nigella  behind  the  Eschscholtzia,  the  blue  corn- 
flower back  of  that  —  and  do  you  know  Dreer's  Double?  It  is 
worth  knowing.  Mignonette  rises  behind  blue  lobelia  in  the 
border;  dwarf  French  marigold  has  Calendula  before  it;  dwarf 
Ageratum  and  that  other  old  garden  annual  so  little  known  here, 
CoUinsia  bicolor,  give  blue  and  lilac  tones  at  the  quieter  end  of 
low-growing  things.  Back  of  all  these  are  pink  snapdragons,  a 
group  of  bluish  Scabiosa,  Godetia  Double  Rose,  more  tall  mari- 
golds (always  in  the  paler  colors),  white  annual  asters,  and  that 
lovely  annual  rose-pink  Lavatera  trimestris,  with  hollyhocks  in 
white  and  pink  to  raise  the  line  of  heights  in  the  background. 
Behind  the  blue  cornflowers.  Miss  Jekyll  has  some  of  the  tall 
primrose-colored  sunflowers,  those  small  sunflowers  whose  plants 
are  not  more  than  three  feet  high  and  whose  flowers  are  very 
fine  in  form  and  color.  Lupines  and  one  or  two  other  subjects 
have  their  place  in  this  border  too,  but  as  these  are  not  annuals, 
they  hardly  belong  to  this  discussion. 

There  is  nothing  better  with  which  to  cover  bulbs  than  such 
annual  flowers  as  these.  Their  roots  are  not  very  deep  or  de- 
manding. If  seed  is  sown  as  early  as  possible,  the  foliage  of 
annuals  will  soon  blot  out  with  fresh  green  the  brown  and  drying 
leaves  of  tulips  and  of  daffodils.  Verbenas  are  capital  plants  for 
this:  one  of  my  special  favorites  in  annual  flowers  is  Verbena 


40  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

venosa,  with  a  pretty  graceful  habit  of  growth  and  a  small  but 
rich  purple  head  of  flowers.  This  comes  from  Argentina,  and 
begins  to  bloom  in  August.  Collinsia  bicolor,  the  little  annual 
mentioned  above,  flowered  with  us  this  summer  for  the  first 
time.  It  is  a  plant  about  eight  inches  tall  with  flowers  of  lilac 
and  white,  exceedingly  attractive.  This  is  offered  in  some  of 
our  seed-lists  and  everyone  should  try  it,  though  to  get  the 
pure  lilac-and-white  variety  one  might  have  to  send  to  England, 
for  I  see  only  mixed  colors  offered  here.  Send  to  England  for  it; 
a  two-cent  stamp  will  bring  a  good  English  seed-list  to  your 
door;  and  if  we  buy  a  few  novelties  from  England  now  and  then, 
our  own  dealers  will  be  very  apt  to  enlarge  their  own  variety 
in  the  near  future.  Let  us  spur  them  on  their  way. 

Not  a  syllable  have  I  written  thus  far  concerning  such  plants 
as  annual  white  cosmos,  the  dwarf  early  variety,  so  nice  near 
Lavatera  Loveliness,  sweet  with  deep  pink  flowers.  Do  not  let 
the  so-called  pink  cosmos  venture  near  this  Lavatera  or  mallow. 
If  you  do,  both  flowers  will  suffer,  as  well  as  your  own  harmony- 
loving  eye.  If  you  must  have  the  cool  pink  of  this  cosmos  in 
your  border,  see  to  it  that  some  lavender  or  purple  hardy  asters, 
such  as  aster  amellus  elegans  or  aster  Feltham  Blue,  or  Lil 
Fardell  bloom  near  by.  It  is  with  these  flowers  that  the  pink 
cosmos  is  perfect,  as  is  the  cold  pink  of  the  Japanese  anemone, 
that  perennial  so  welcome  in  the  autumn,  but  whose  roots  may 
be  transplanted  only  in  the  spring. 

Variety  in  perennials  is  a  subject  inexhaustible.  From  those 
that  are  now  being  made  known  to  America  by  the  great  soci- 
eties that  bear  their  names  —  Peony  and  Iris  —  to  those  other 
flowers  not  called  perennials,  but  which  once  grown  or  bought 
go  on  flowering,  like  the  dahlia,  the  rose,  the  gladiolus  —  the 
American  public  is  certainly  awake  to  flowers  in  variety  as 
never  before.  Merchants  and  bankers  are  becoming  specialists 


VARIETY  IN  ANNUAL  FL0WT:RS  41 

in  flowers;  doctors  and  clergj'men,  as  in  England,  are  gardening 
and  spreading  this  other  therapeutic,  this  other  gospel.  And  this 
is  no  prejudiced  view,  but  known  to  everyone.  One  of  my  friends 
in  a  certain  January  became  the  garden  editor  of  a  monthly 
publication  for  women  —  one  which  has  a  large  circulation ;  by 
the  first  of  April  thereafter  six  thousand  letters  had  come  from 
women  everywhere  about  their  gardens. 

It  is  likely  that  perennials  form  the  basis  of  most  of  the  smaller 
gardens.  They  should.  Like  a  good  shrub,  the  perennial  is  the 
best  investment  for  the  beginner.  Unlike  the  shrub,  it  may  be 
increased  by  division,  and  this  is  an  advantage.  Yet  I  have 
never  yet  been  able  to  understand  why  the  owner  of  one  of 
Lemoine's  delicious  shrubs,  Philadelphus  virginale,  for  instance, 
does  not  seciu-e  to  himself,  by  striking  cuttings,  a  dozen  more 
where  he  has  space  for  them. 

Far  from  calling  attention  in  tliese  pages  to  the  older  and 
better  known  perennials.  Coreopsis  lanceolata,  for  instance,  or 
Gaillardia,  —  both  of  which  sturdy  things  have  their  place  only 
in  the  border  of  red  or  yellow  flowers  and  in  a  few  other  spots, 
but  not  many,  —  let  me  suggest  the  more  frequent  placing  in 
our  gardens  of  one  not  very  widely  distributed  as  yet.  This  is 
the  yucca.  What  a  magnificent  subject  for  the  border  with  its 
full  heads  of  creamy  bell-like  flowers,  its  gray-green  foliage  like 
bent  swords,  each  leaf  with  its  "terrible  needle  point"!  Yucca 
filamentosa  is  the  most  commonly  used,  though  others  are  very 
handsome  —  gloriosa,  perhaps  the  most  striking  of  the  family, 
recuna,  and  the  freer-blooming  filamentosa.  In  Miss  Jekyll's 
"Gray  Garden"  those  effective  cream-white  flowers  are  used 
thus:".  .  .  a  gray-white  edging  of  Cineraria  maritima,  Stachys 
and  Santolina.  There  are  groups  of  lavender,  with  large-flowered 
clematises,  placed  so  that  they  may  be  trained  close  to  them 
and  partly  over  them.  .  .  .  The  flower  coloring  is  of  purple. 


42  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLfe  GARDEN 

pink,  and  white."  With  the  Yuccas  there  are  used  the  Madonna 
lily,  Lilium  longijiorum,  Achillea  Pearl,  and  the  hardy  Gypso- 
phila.  For  pink  here  Miss  Jekyll  has  Godetia  Double  Rose,  pink 
hollyhock,  and  a  double  soapwort  of  pale  pink.  The  description 
of  this  planting  in  Colour  in  the  Flower  Garden,  with  its  accom- 
panying plan,  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  things  ever  given  us 
by  this  writer. 

So  much  for  the  informal  use  of  this  fine  garden-subject.  But 
where,  I  ask,  has  better  formal  use  been  made  of  the  yucca  than 
in  the  noble  English  garden  of  Sedgwick  —  a  garden  of  which 
the  picture,  now  standing  before  me,  gives  an  almost  ecstatic 
delight?  For  there  is  in  the  beautiful  composition  of  this 
picture  every  quality  that  a  fine  garden  should  possess.  Here 
is  the  highest  garden-beauty  from  the  straight  lines  of  walk  and 
clipped  yew  which  so  enhance  the  curving  grace  of  tree  and 
flower;  from  the  deep  shade  of  tree-masses  to  the  brilliant  light 
on  the  yucca  and  on  the  column  with  the  urn  rising  from  a 
cloud  of  flowers;  from  the  easy  pavement,  looking  as  though 
worn  by  the  stepping  of  centuries,  to  the  delicate  spires  of  the 
Campanula  on  the  left,  growing  as  naturally  as  though  self-sown. 
There  is  the  suggestion  of  Italy  in  this  English  garden;  the  trees 
might  be  live  oaks;  the  long  alley  of  yew  recalls  the  one  of 
cypress,  and  the  bit  of  sculptiu-ed  stone  to  the  right  heightens 
the  impression.  Never  before  has  a  garden  pictm-e  seemed 
to  me  so  distinguished,  so  filled  with  enchantment.  Poetry 
is  in  even  its  counterfeit  presentment.  And  surely,  on  a  closer 
inspection,  the  surprise  of  a  distant  prospect  must  await  one  at 
the  far  end  of  that  walk  or  perhaps  at  an  angle  from  that  spot, 
while  the  mellow  quality  of  age  seems  to  enwrap  the  whole, 
be  the  garden  old  or  new. 

Since  setting  down  my  impression  of  this  garden  from  its 
photograph  and  nothing  more,  a  letter  has  come  from  Mr. 


VARIETY  IN  ANNUAL  FLOWERS  43 

Malby,  whose  work  the  picture  is.  I  quote:  "The  principal  tree 
in  the  Sedgwick  garden  is  an  evergreen  oak,  while  the  one  on 
the  left  is,  I  believe,  an  apple.  The  beautiful  water-worked 
pavement  is  sandstone  quarried  on  the  estate  which  is  at  Hors- 
ham, Sussex,  in  the  Weald,  with  magnificent  views  of  the  Sus- 
sex Downs  over  nearly  half  a  circle.  The  pavement  plants  are 
dwarf  campanulas,  thyme  and  sedum,  and  they  make  a  beautiful 
efiFect.  The  yuccas  do  particularly  well  there  and  are  one  of  the 
chief  features." 

Yuccas,  then,  should  be  used  for  bold  decorative  effect  as  at 
Sedgwick  and  at  Munstead  Wood.  Filamentosa  grows  four  feet 
tall,  gloriosa  is  shorter;  the  one  most  generally  seen  in  our  own 
northern  gardens  (says  Bailey)  is  flaccida,  which  persists  for 
years.  They  are  eccentric  as  to  bloom  —  there  may  be  no 
flowers  for  two  or  three  years,  then  a  great  outburst;  and  as  is 
natural  with  plants  of  this  character,  they  establish  themselves 
slowly  after  moving.  Give  them  a  sunny  position,  a  rich  yet 
sandy  soil;  good  drainage  is  an  essential,  since  they  are  natives 
of  the  Mexican  tableland  of  our  country.  In  some  cases  it  is 
advised  that  they  be  grown  in  raised  beds,  but  this  is  probably 
for  countries  where  rainfall  is  heavy,  or  for  gardens  whose 
situation  is  low. 

Below  the  Sedgwick  yuccas  the  flowering  plant  used  is  Cen- 
taurea  gymnoscarpa;  but  other  plants  to  associate  with  the  yucca 
are  for  example  Tritoma  and  Dracaena  —  where  one  has  a  green- 
house to  draw  upon  —  and,  in  rather  more  available  plants, 
some  of  the  newer  cannas,  dwarf  ones,  in  tones  of  yellow,  salmon, 
apricot  only.  The  canna  leaf,  so  difficult  to  use  ordinarily  in 
plant  composition,  may  well  harmonize  with  the  tropic  look 
of  that  of  the  yucca;  and  in  a  suitable  position  the  two  might 
look  extremely  well  together;  but  such  plants  as  these  need  a 
rich  and  quiet  background  of  green. 


44  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

This  garden  of  Sedgwick  is  unknown  to  me  except  through 
picture  and  description,  but  be  it  large  or  small,  it  carries  its 
lesson  for  the  little  garden.  Here  are  the  very  principles  of 
beauty;  here  are  the  suggestions  for  the  furnishing  of  the  small 
garden;  for  while  the  paved  garden  is  for  a  large  part  of  this 
country  impracticable  because  of  our  hot  suns,  proportion  and 
decoration  are  the  same  the  world  over.  The  effective  placing 
of  a  well-planned  flower  group  may  be  practised  anywhere. 
Balance  in  a  towering  mass  of  flowers  or  in  rounded  groups  of 
flowers  may  be  managed  in  the  smallest  of  spaces.  The  effect 
of  distance,  where  distance  is  not,  is  often  produced  by  the 
skillful  landscape  architect;  and  the  terms  "mystery  "  and  "sur- 
prise "  are  linked  with  the  very  mention  of  his  name.  No  garden, 
no  fine  garden,  is  too  large  to  learn  from;  scale  is  the  thing  to  re- 
member—  and  that  is  easily  reduced  for  the  space  available 
to  the  majority. 


IV 
VARIETY  IN  PERENNIAL  FLOWERS 

On  one  thing  I  am  decided  in  the  way  of  color  improvement 
for  next  year  in  our  garden,  and  it  is  not  my  o\\ti  suggestion: 
this  is  the  getting  of  some  roots  of  Hydrangea  arhorescens,  the 
starting  of  them  in  pots,  and  the  plmiging  of  them  —  when 
they  are  in  bloom  —  into  spaces  in  the  garden  where  cream- 
white  is  needed.  This  seems  to  me  a  capital  idea  and  will,  I 
know,  give  beauty  in  an  instant  where  dullness  reigned  before. 
Such  expedients  are  legitimate  and  useful.  Geraniums,  managed 
in  the  same  way,  have  often  been  suggested;  and  could  there  be 
a  more  amusing  manner  of  gardening  than  flying  to  a  retired 
spot  and  retiu-ning  equipped  to  set  in  the  beds  or  borders  the 
very  hues  and  tones  of  color,  the  very  textures  and  forms  of 
flowers,  to  change  and  improve  the  aspect  of  a  group?  Too 
much  of  this  sort  of  thing  would  of  course  not  be  gardening; 
but  a  touch  of  it  now  and  then  is  surely  proper  and  carries 
with  it  a  bit  of  humor  too.  For  the  garden  must  be  managed: 
it  is  always  getting  out  of  hand.  It  must  be  humbled  by  shears, 
supported  by  stakes,  cheered  and  refreshed  by  water,  trained 
and  quieted  by  tying,  encouraged  by  bone-meal  and  other 
wholesome  foods. 

Four  very  beautiful  members  of  the  Hemerocallis  tribe  stand 
on  my  desk  to-day  —  the  delicate  Hemerocallis  ciirina  with  its 
slender  flowers  some  four  inches  long,  of  pale  clear  yellow,  the 
outer  side  of  the  petals  suflFused  with  green,  and  with  the  fra- 
grance of  a  lemon  blossom;  Hemerocallis  Florham,  a  magnificent 
single  orange  bloom,  with  frilled  edges;  and  last  and  most  con- 
spicuous of  all  in  size,  color,  and  form,  Hemerocallis  flore  pleno 
Kwanso;  with  the  tawny  orange  hues  of  fidva,  the  commonest 


46  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

type  of  this  flower.  Nine  inner  petals  or  petaloids  in  Kwanso 
give  a  rich  fullness  to  this  orange-colored  flower;  stains  of  bright 
red  mark  the  lower  part  of  the  inside  of  the  outer  petals;  and  a 
brilliant  orange  runs  down  into  the  cup  or  centre  of  the  flower. 
The  color  of  the  petaloids  is  orange  also;  and  this,  joined  to  the 
twisted  habit  of  both  petals  and  petaloids  and  the  pronounced 
crimping  or  frilling  of  the  edges  of  all,  gives  a  very  singular  but 
interesting  effect.  Earlier  varieties  are  Queen  of  May  and 
Apricot. 

If  we  had  cottage  gardens  in  America  (which  we  do  not), 
I  should  call  this  a  flower  of  cottage  gardens;  for  it  is  seen,  I 
believe,  on  almost  every  farm  where  flowers  are  grown.  Indeed, 
long  after  having  been  grown  in  the  dooryard  of  a  farmhouse, 
and  that  house  has  decayed,  or  fire  has  ruined  it  as  so  often  is 
the  case,  here  are  these  lilies  glowing  orange  at  their  own  time 
in  summer,  mute  reminders  of  a  home  that  has  been  —  and  is 
no  more.  Somewhere  near  Ardsley  as  one  goes  by  train  from 
New  York  to  Albany,  the  tracks  on  the  right,  away  from  the 
river,  are  in  late  June  brightened  by  the  flowers  of  Hemerocallis 
fulva,  which  in  bold  profusion,  and  with  groups  of  elder  bushes 
in  full  white  bloom,  flower  for  many  hundred  feet  within  and 
outside  the  fence  of  an  estate  which  abuts  upon  the  railway  at 
that  point.  This  is  a  thing  to  watch  for  on  the  New  York 
Central  lines  at  this  time  of  year. 

Never  was  a  fairer  sight  in  rose-colored  flowers  than  a  bowl 
near  me  now,  in  which  branches  of  pink  hawthorn  are  arranged 
with  clusters  of  the  Clara  Butt  tulip.  The  tulip  droops;  for  it 
developed  to  the  north  of  a  lilac  shrubbery,  and  crawled  forth 
prostrate  on  the  grass  to  reach  the  light,  the  sun,  therefore  it 
has  not  the  upright  habit  of  its  kind.  To  make  up  for  this,  its 
color  is  superb.  No  sunlight  has  taken  one  atom  of  rich  pink 
from  its  petals;  its  inner  color,  as  one  sees  it  here,  is  exactly 


VARIETY  IN  PERENNIAL  FLOWERS  47 

as  rich  a  rose-pink  as  the  lovely  little  flowers  on  the  boughs 
of  thorn.  Is  there  a  more  delicious  pink  than  that? 

And  is  there  any  tree  more  difficult  to  secure  than  an  actual 
pink  hawthorn?  As  many  as  four  times,  in  years  long  gone,  I 
have  sent  in  orders  for  pink  thorns,  and  waited  anxiously  for 
two  or  three  years  in  each  case  for  the  pink  bloom  only  to  find, 
to  my  dismay  and  disgust,  that  the  pink  was  —  white !  At  last, 
seeing  two  beautiful  young  specimens  in  bloom  in  pots  at  Easter 
at  a  florist's  and  realizing  that  there,  at  last,  was  a  chance  to 
possess  the  coveted  color,  I  brought  those  home  and  nursed 
them  along  till  they  could  be  set  in  the  groimd.  In  seven  years, 
what  with  spraying,  feeding  and  care,  we  have  this  spring  two 
beautiful  twelve-foot  trees,  whose  horizontal  branches  are  masses 
of  vivid  pink  and  green. 

The  hawthorn  or  "may"  turns  one's  thoughts  to  England 
and  her  poets;  and  her  poets  lead  always  to  her  gardens.  A 
picture  of  an  herbaceous  border  in  England  is  before  me,  a 
vision  of  such  beauty  as  is  seldom  seen  in  gardens.  It  is  almost 
the  ideal  border.  One  may  be  very  sure  that  the  eye  and  hand 
that  planned  and  made  such  plant-groupings  as  these,  so  varied 
yet  so  balanced,  so  boldly  beautiful  in  form,  would  make  no 
color-mistakes  in  flowers  beside  each  other.  There  seems  to  be 
a  generous  admixture  of  whites  and  blues  and  much  gray  foliage. 
The  border  pinks  or  carnations  help  with  this  last  and  many 
are  seen  to  the  left.  Also  to  the  left  is  a  bold-flowering  group 
of  Anchusa;  while  far  beyond  delphiniums  hold  their  blue  pillars 
firmly  in  air,  and  on  either  side  the  great  verbascums  or  mulleins 
stand  like  the  seven-branched  candlesticks  of  old.  Hollyhocks 
are  seen  to  the  right,  very  sparingly  set;  they  are  superb  sub- 
jects to  rise  above  a  low  wall,  as  whatever  grows  and  blooms 
there  must  stand  out  in  lovely  relief  against  the  tiuf  below. 
To  the  left  a  rose  flings  its  boughs  against  and  above  the  wall; 


48  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

a  dark  tree  in  the  farther  angle  of  the  wall  gives  its  rich  value 
to  the  picture;  and  the  whole,  set  deep  in  green  of  hedge  and 
tree  and  hill,  gives  the  fresh  and  pleasant  consciousness  that 
there  are  still  in  England  "haunts  of  ancient  peace." 

The  masses  of  clear  blue  in  such  a  border  as  this  remind  me 
of  what  Miss  Jekyll  has  to  say  concerning  companion  flowers 
for  this  color.  Her  wise  contention  is  that  nothing  so  well  as 
orange  sets  forth  the  value  of  blue  or  gives  so  satisfying  an 
effect  with  blue  flowers.  This  granted,  I  would  suggest  for  the 
purpose  Lilium  superbum,  one  of  our  native  lilies,  with  the  fur- 
ther suggestion  that  this  be  tried  near  Delphinium,  Anchusa 
and  all  the  purple  list,  such  as  the  veronicas.  For  in  our  singular 
climate  who  can  tell  what  flowers  are  even  reasonably  sure  to 
bloom  together?  It  is  well  then  to  use  these  bright  lilies  among 
both  blues  and  purples;  and  the  result  will  surely  be  highly 
interesting.  In  years  gone  by  I  grew  this  lily  before  masses  of 
common  elder  with  Gaillardia  below.  The  effect  in  the  border  — 
for  this  was  not  in  the  garden  itself  —  was  extremely  nice;  but 
this  is  a  planting  which  requires  a  long  space  and  a  width  of 
some  six  to  eight  feet;  and  on  the  small  place  there  is  usually 
not  the  room  to  spare  from  grass.  So  far  as  I  remember,  the 
glorious  flower  needs  no  care  at  all  in  such  a  position.  It  grows, 
blooms,  multiplies,  and  shines  forth  in  July,  asking  nothing  of 
anyone;  and  seen  against  the  lacy  cream-color  of  elder  flowers, 
the  picture  it  creates  is  very  fine.  It  is  a  lily  of  straight  habit; 
it  has  strong  shining  leaves  in  a  whorl;  but  nobody  can  describe 
the  glow  of  color  which  calls  one  to  this  lily  from  afar. 

To  return  to  the  English  border  for  a  moment:  Campanula 
lactiflora  is  one  of  the  main  plants  used  here.  This  brings  to 
mind  the  beauty  of  the  purple  variety  of  this  fine  bellflower  as 
it  would  appear  in  conjunction  with  the  orange  lilies.  Also  I 
must  mention  the  amazing  success  with  this  tall  campanula  of 


VARIETY  IN  PERENNIAL  FLOWERS  49 

Mrs.  Berkeley,  the  English  hybridist  of  the  primrose,  sister  to 
Miss  Willmott.  "Mrs.  Berkeley,"  writes  Miss  Willmott,  "has 
for  some  score  or  so  of  years  selected  and  gro\NTi  on  her  seedling 
Campanula  lactiflora  until  she  has  a  fine  row  of  stiflF-stemmed 
plants,  which  stand  of  themselves  unless  an  unusually  heavy 
rainstorm  sweeps  over  the  garden  when  they  are  in  full  flower. 
She  grows  pure  white  forms  some  eight  feet  in  height;  but  the 
pride  of  the  species  is  the  grand  erect  deep-colored  variety, 
which  is  often  ten  feet  high,  with  large  open-mouthed  bells  of 
rich  purple,  and  seen  in  mass  as  growTi  at  Spetchley,  it  is  a 
glorious  sight  not  easily  forgotten."  Can  any  American  gar- 
dener even  imagine  a  campanula  of  this  type  ten  feet  high? 
What  a  companion  this  noble  plant  might  be,  if  times  of  bloom 
permitted,  for  the  Lilium  giganteum,  the  giant  lily.  This  grows 
from  ten  to  fourteen  feet  high.  Do  not  think  this  too  tall  for 
beauty.  In  the  wood  at  Wisley,  the  experimental  garden  of  tlie 
Royal  Horticultural  Society,  among  the  trees  it  holds  its  owti 
well.  A  lily  ten  feet  tall  sounds  a  monstrosity;  but  in  our  border 
in  August,  seen  through  and  beside  a  copper-beech  tree,  there 
is  the  gleam  of  salmon-orange  of  a  group  of  Lilium  henryi,  some 
of  them  nine  feet  tall,  and  the  effect  is  not  overpowering,  but 
one  of  grace  and  charm.  The  fragrance  of  Lilium  giganteum  — 
according  to  Mr.  H.  S.  Adams  to  whose  little  book,  Lilies,  I  go 
for  constant  help  —  is  "delicious  but  powerful."  The  plant 
comes  from  the  Himalayas;  the  flower  is  white  with  a  tinge  of 
purple  within  and  of  green  without. 

Now  as  we  discuss  lilies,  there  is  one  word  of  caution  with 
regard  to  their  planting  which  can  never  be  too  often  given. 
No  manure,  absolutely  none,  must  touch  their  roots.  The  bulbs 
must  not  be  set  in  wet  or  in  damp  spots.  They  should,  for  the 
most  part,  be  planted  very  deep  (six  to  eight  inches),  on  their 
sides,  with  a  generous  handful  of  sand  beneath  to  lie  on. 


50  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

Lilies  are  not  now  offered  in  this  coimtry  in  such  variety  as 
once  they  were.  It  then  behooves  us  to  save  the  offshoots  of 
our  dormant  bulbs,  to  grow  the  glorious  things  from  seed.  Lilium 
regale  will  flower  the  second  season  from  seed;  and  it  is  one  of 
the  wonders  of  all  gardens  to-day,  both  for  beauty  and  fragrance. 
The  difficulty  with  us  seems  to  be  the  sufficient  —  or  efficient  — 
labeling  of  the  little  grass-like  leaves  which  mark  the  first  ap- 
pearance of  life  from  a  lily  seed.  These  are  easily  mistaken  for 
grass  strayed  from  out  its  bounds,  and  treated  accordingly, 
with  the  result  that  a  year  is  lost  and  a  certain  discouragement 
might  result  —  but  in  reality,  never  should,  or  does.  A  memo- 
randum should  be  made  in  the  garden  notebook  of  the  acci- 
dent, as  well  as  of  the  intention  of  another  trial. 

Thinking  again  of  the  matter  of  companion  flowers  for  lilies, 
especially  for  the  Madonna,  Regal  lily  and  the  Nankeen  lily  — 
with  the  last-named  Delphinium  belladonna  is  perfection;  the 
Regal  lily  is  delightful  with  good  heliotrope  growing  about  it, 
or  with  lavender  phloxes  near  and  a  low-growing  Thalidrum, 
such  as  adiantifolium,  to  mask  its  stems  a  little.  A  phlox  both 
suitable  and  beautiful  for  growing  before  Lilium  regale  is  W.  C. 
Egan:  suitable  because  of  its  rather  dwarf  habit,  beautiful  for 
its  delightful  cool  pink  color  and  the  extraordinary  masses  of 
large  flowers  which  it  invariably  shows  in  July  or  August.  And 
Rhinelander,  a  magnificent  garden-subject  among  phloxes,  may 
properly  follow  Lilium  regale  and  phlox  Egan  on  approximately 
the  same  spot.  As  for  the  Madonna  lily,  I  should  never  grow 
any  flower  to  neighbor  it  except  the  mauve  Salvia  sclarea,  whose 
pinkish  lavender  bracts  create  so  beautiful  a  contrast  in  number, 
form,  and  color  to  the  more  solitary  splendor  of  that  lily,  be- 
loved of  all  who  garden. 

Just  before  the  time  for  phloxes,  however,  come  gypsophilas. 
A  fine  array  of  these  plants  is  shown  in  the  picture  of  Mrs. 


J 

^9 


^ 


VARIETY  IN  PERENNIAL  FLOT\^RS  51 

Walter  S.  Brewster's  Lake  Forest  garden  opposite  page  50. 
Waves  of  these  foam-like  flowers  break  here  upon  their  strand 
of  a  well-kept  grass  walk.  Iris  leaves  give  capital  relief  and 
variety  in  form ;  the  fig-leaved  hollyhock  lifts  the  eye  agreeably 
and  gives  rich  color  to  the  borders.  Reduce  this  charming  pic- 
ture to  its  simplest  terms,  and  carry  it  out  upon  the  little  place. 
The  background  of  shrubs  is  not  difficult  to  obtain:  two  or 
three  elms  are  within  the  range  of  most  of  us;  and  those  ever- 
changing  skies  are  always  ours. 

The  place  where  Lilium  superhum  once  stood  in  our  ground 
with  elder  now  knows  these  two  things  no  more.  Now  the  spot 
is  covered  with  Hemerocallis  Florham,  out  of  which  rise  two 
fine  lilacs,  Syringa  pubescens,  and  Syringa  reflexa  with  its  mar- 
velous color-contrast  between  bud  and  open  flower.  A  group  of 
young  willows  encroaches  a  little  on  this  arrangement,  and  a 
birch  or  two.  Would  that  I  might  dwell  here  on  the  lovely  lily 
so  perfect  with  its  pale  apricot  near  Delphinium,  Lilium  testa- 
ceum,  the  Nankeen  lily;  or  upon  my  great  favorite  (and  every- 
one's), the  bright  little  Lilium  ienuifolium,  the  coral  lily,  deep 
scarlet  and  so  tiny  that  it  is  often  lost  by  an  affectionate  owTier 
among  other  plants;  upon  the  lovely  speciosum;  upon  my  own 
(and  everyone's)  special  delight,  Lilium  regale,  which  would  be 
my  choice  if  all  others  but  one  were  barred  to  me.  "Lilies," 
says  IVIr.  E.  H.  Wilson,  "are  not  nearly  enough  known  and 
grown  in  American  gardens;  we  sit  by  and  think  we  have  done 
well  if  we  use  five  out  of  the  countless  numbers  we  might  have 
for  the  white  or  colored  beauty  of  their  presence  among  our 
other  flowers." 

The  garden  now  lies  bare;  "  leaf -picking  winds"  have  done 
their  work,  and  leaves  —  tree  leaves  —  have  now  changed  much 
of  the  earth  surface  in  our  temperate  zone  from  green  to  brown 


52  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE   GARDEN 

—  have  changed  each  leaf  from  a  fresh  green  thing  to  that 
twisted,  curved  and  coppery  object  which,  as  Dean  Bailey  of 
the  Cleveland  Art  Museum  told  a  group  of  gardeners  lately, 
is  to  the  artist  the  loveliest  of  all  aspects  of  the  leaf. 

Of  what  does  the  gardener  think  as  he  sees  these  drifting 
tokens  of  the  coming  winter,  as  he  does  the  last  covering  of 
plants,  polishing,  oiling  and  putting  away  of  tools?  He  thinks  — 
for  the  true  gardener  is  always  an  imaginative  person  —  of 
spring.  He  knows  these  plants  will  rise  again  in  beauty.  He 
sees,  with  that  eye  of  the  imagination  that  penetrates  the 
blackest  storms  and  the  whitest  snows  of  winter,  the  green  buds 
of  the  lilacs  in  their  April  breaking;  and  he  prepares  from  now 
on  for  that  time. 

Two  practical  suggestions  I  would  make  for  winter  gardening, 
as  we  may  properly  call  it.  Buy  and  read  good  garden-books 
and  magazines  and  plan  to  get  endless  seed,  plant,  shrub  and 
tree  catalogues  or  lists.  For  magazines  I  could  not  myself  do 
without  the  Garden  Magazine,  which  has  been  my  companion 
since  its  very  first  number;  and  I  should  be  sorry  to  miss  each 
month  Mr.  Madison  Cooper's  paper,  the  Flower  Grower,  friendly 
and  brimming  with  practical  help  for  all  who  garden. 

Let  us  turn  now  to  seed  and  plant  lists  —  the  trade  lists. 
The  mention  of  the  gardening  periodicals  has  come  first  because 
it  is  in  the  advertising  columns  of  those  papers  that  the  ad- 
dresses of  dealers  will  be  found.  In  the  two  I  have  named  there 
are  such  addresses  throughout  the  year;  in  all  other  magazines 
and  papers  the  great  spring  flood  of  such  annoimcements  begins 
just  after  Christmas.  As  early  as  November  I  should  start 
sending  out  postal  cards  asking  for  seed-lists.  The  gardening 
habit  is  now  so  general  in  America,  the  wish  to  plant  and  grow 
in  the  little  garden  is  so  widespread,  that  the  non-disappointed 
one  is  he  who  writes  early  and  receives  his  seeds  a  month 


VARIETY  IN  PERENNIAL  FLOWERS  53 

or  two  before  he  would  sow  them.  I  cannot  press  too  strongly 
this  suggestion,  for  it  has  happened  lately  that  in  the  great 
growth  of  this  garden  movement  late  orders  to  seedsmen  have 
gone  unfilled.  The  early  bird's  worm  thus  becomes  even  more 
toothsome. 

Also  collect  catalogues.  Some  of  these  are  so  well  done  from 
the  standpoint  of  knowledge,  classification,  and  cultural  informa- 
tion that  they  deserve  permanent  places  on  the  shelf.  American 
seed  lists  have  improved  in  the  last  ten  years  in  amazing  fashion. 
Many  of  them  now  appear  in  such  dress  and  with  such  illustra- 
tions in  color  as  to  make  them  ornaments  for  the  library  table. 
Occupants  of  that  table  they  should  always  be.  WTiat  a  re- 
sponsive note  is  struck  when  the  garden-lover  enters  either  a 
house  or  a  railway  car  and  sees  on  the  table  or  in  the  hand  that 
beloved  sign  of  spring,  the  seed  catalogue !  Few  women  to-day 
travel  in  the  late  winter  months  without  these  books  in  trunk 
or  bag.  They  fill  the  mind  with  dreams.  They  stimulate;  they 
suggest.  Of  course  at  the  same  time  they  pillage.  But  what  is 
money,  mere  money,  compared  to  flowers? 

Tools  are  things  to  be  thought  of  and  cared  for  now.  The 
shears  for  instance,  dull  with  summer  use,  should  be  sent  off 
to  the  grinder  and  on  their  return  put  away,  labeled,  or  when 
spring  comes  they  may  not  be  easily  found.  Is  it  because  tools 
are  of  iron  and  steel  that  —  as  a  young  gardener  —  I  used  to 
wonder  why  it  was  necessary  to  take  any  care  of  them  ?  They 
seemed  to  me  stout  things,  of  a  kind  to  take  care  of  themselves. 
We  find,  however,  as  we  go  on  in  life,  that  nothing  does  that; 
I  learned,  after  some  experience  with  rust,  that  cleaning  and 
oiling  and  putting  in  dry  places  would  materially  lengthen  the 
life  of  lawTi  mower,  rake,  hoe,  and  spade. 

Above  all,  the  winter  months  are  the  months  to  plan  in. 
With  the  aid  of  books,  of  catalogues,  of  magazines,  with  the 


54  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

benefit  of  the  experience  of  the  past  and  other  summers'  work 
in  the  garden,  we  know  more  each  year  what  we  really  want 
in  a  garden;  and  to  change  the  garden  occasionally  is  one  of 
its  best  pleasures.  "Change,  the  immortal  factor  of  deliver- 
ance!" I  should  never  hesitate,  in  a  good  climate  and  with  a 
good  soil,  to  remake  my  garden  every  few  years;  in  fact  I  should 
prefer  that,  if  I  had  a  small  space  and  any  desire  to  try  new 
things.  There  are  certain  things  that  might  and  should  remain 
in  permanent  places  —  peonies,  roses,  certain  shrubs,  and  so  on; 
but  the  outlying  plants,  such  as  irises  and  phloxes,  might  easily 
be  varied  by  moving  or  by  changing  the  varieties  altogether. 
The  first  year  after  moving  a  phlox  will  send  up  three  or  four 
good  heads  of  bloom,  even  though  short;  the  third  year  in  that 
place  it  may  be  almost  too  large  for  the  plants  around  it.  Mov- 
ing and  changing  about  in  the  garden  has  always  been  to  me  a 
pastime;  but  it  is  more  than  that  —  it  is  an  education  got  in 
the  most  enchanting  way.  And  in  order  to  learn  as  one  replants 
and  freshens  the  border,  I  would  suggest  trying  new  and  un- 
known plants.  By  "unknown"  of  course  I  mean  hitherto  un- 
known to  yourself.  Instead  of  using,  for  instance,  scarlet  sage 
(unless  you  have  a  very  pretty  way  of  planting  it  with  cream- 
white  and  lavender  flowers),  try  some  of  the  others  of  the  sage 
family:  Salvia  farinacea  beside  pink  stock;  Salvia  patens  for  a 
bit  of  bright  pure  blue;  Salvia  virgata  nemorosa  to  grow  at  the 
foot  of  crimson  rambler  roses  or  close  by  dwarf  ramblers  of  the 
same  variety.  In  annuals,  those  who  have  not  grown  Clarhia 
have  missed  one  of  the  loveliest  of  all  summer  flowers;  the 
pm-plish  shades  are  very  beautiful  grown  before  the  tall  deep 
purple  annual  larkspur,  and  if  a  few  plants  of  white  or  palest 
yellow  pansies  were  seen  before  these  two  annual  flowers,  your 
border  would  have  a  sure  distinction  in  that  spot.  Collinsia 
bicolor,  as  I  have  said  earlier,  is  a  delightful  and  little-grown 


VARIETY  IN  PERENNIAL  FLOWERS  55 

annual  with  a  white  flower  running  up  the  stem,  a  flower  whose 
lower  lip  is  a  bright  reddish  lavender.  This  is  good  growTi  near 
heliotrope,  or  a  deep  purple  verbena  such  as  Dolores,  or  the 
species  verbena,  venosa. 

The  list  is  endless;  so  are  the  pleasures.  All  I  would  say  is  — 
do  this  imaginative  gardening  early;  plan  it  on  paper;  make 
notes;  send  in  orders;  and  when  May  comes  and  the  gardening 
world  is  rushing  wildly  about,  late  for  everji:hing,  you  will  be 
calmly  setting  out  seedlings  in  their  appointed  places,  working 
with  a  trowel  whose  handle  is  intact,  and  wath  no  garden  burdens 
on  the  mind,  enjoying  in  calmness  the  beauty  of  the  spring. 

Except  for  our  planting  and  what  Miss  Jekyll  calls  "regu- 
lating" the  garden,  August  should  not  be  a  too-busy  month  for 
the  gardener.  Make  it  a  time  of  enjoyment,  for  sitting  much 
among  and  near  your  flowers;  for  garden-dreaming  —  which 
may  sound  sentimental,  but  really  is  not,  for  unless  we  dream 
or  imagine  in  our  gardens,  how  shall  they  improve,  how  grow 
each  year  more  lovely? 

Now  the  stir  of  September's  activity  is  almost  upon  us.  The 
digging,  moving,  replanting,  replanning,  so  much  better  done 
with  most  things  in  autumn  than  in  spring,  are  about  to  come 
upon  us  as  a  flood.  I  survey  the  calm  brightness  of  the  trees, 
shrubs,  the  still  green  of  the  great  peony  leaves  against  a  trim 
high  hedge  beside  me,  and  wish,  so  truly  wish,  that  this  time 
of  peace  might  longer  endure,  there  is  such  sweetness  in  the  air, 
fragrance  of  leaves,  of  grass,  of  fruit.  And  to-morrow  I  expect 
a  great  box  of  perennials,  after  that  shrubs,  then  bulbs,  and 
general  liveliness  to  come. 

Make  a  little  garden,  if  you  are  a  beginner,  make  a  little 
garden  even  if  you  have  had  experience,  but  work  toward  a 
beautiful  garden.  How  few  people  realize  that  in  twenty  square 
feet  something  enchanting  in  the  way  of  a  garden  may  be  pro- 


56  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

duced,  if  proper  thought  and  knowledge  are  bent  upon  this  spot. 
A  little  hedged  square  or  oblong,  with  a  tree  giving  some  shadow 
in  it  from  outside  (it  would  be  in  that  shadow  that  you  would 
place  your  forget-me-nots,  delphiniums,  thalictrums,  aconites), 
four  rectangular  beds  for  flowers,  grass  walks  between,  a  bench 
or  two  for  the  quiet  enjoyment  of  your  picture  —  one  could  do 
this  in  twenty  feet,  keeping  watch  of  proportions.  Choose  a 
place,  if  you  can,  where  the  tree  boughs  help  the  picture.  The 
roots  will  not  interfere  too  much. 

There  is  a  garden  near  me  in  whose  simple  design  I  had  a 
hand,  and  the  plan  of  which  is  given  opposite  this  page.  This 
garden  is  —  roughly  —  thirty  by  eighty  feet,  outlined  by  a  foot- 
high  hedge  of  privet.  The  garden  runs  from  east  to  west;  at  the 
west  end  is  a  brick  platform  about  ten  by  six  feet  for  a  sitting- 
place,  at  the  other  end,  an  extra  semicircle  of  hedge-enclosed 
space,  straight  on  one  side,  curved  on  the  other,  for  a  few  choice 
roses,  A  space  of  grass  three  feet  wide  is  left  through  the  rose 
garden  as  entrance  to  the  main  perennial  one.  On  either  side 
of  the  long  stretch  of  grass,  three  narrow  beds  of  perennials  and 
annuals  find  place;  these  are  spaced  carefully,  just  opposite 
each  other.  Down  the  centre  of  the  grass  panel  or  lawn  are 
three  small  apple-trees,  which  we  did  not  wish  to  disturb,  and 
two  feet  outside  of  the  hedge  on  three  sides,  north,  south  and 
west,  are  borders  of  tall  shrubs  like  bush  honeysuckle,  forsythia, 
mock  orange,  lilac  and  so  on.  Here  only  bulbs  are  planted. 

On  the  farm  there  is  often  a  tree  not  far  from  the  house, 
which  might  easily  be  taken  as  the  pivotal  feature  for  a  little 
garden.  If  on  the  axis  of  the  tree  a  low  wall  (low  on  the  entrance 
side,  higher  on  the  three  others)  could  be  built  in  a  square  or 
well-proportioned  parallelogram,  if  a  broad  walk  could  be  made 
five  feet  wide,  —  parallel  to  and  five  feet  away  from  the  wall 
on  the  left,  —  of  brick  or  of  flat  stone  flagging,  there  would  be 


VARIETY  IN  PERENNIAL  FLOWERS  57 

here  the  framework  for  lovely  spring  and  summer  pictures. 
In  the  wide  border  against  the  wall  higher  hollyhocks  should 
rise,  with  pale  yellow  summer  chrysanthemums  at  their  feet, 
irises  to  precede  them  in  bloom,  and  phloxes  and  hardy  asters 
to  follow.  Tall  plants  require  wide  walks;  do  we  often  think  of 
that?  To  the  right  of  this  walk  should  be  a  border  two  or  three 
feet  wide  of  low  flowers,  nothing  taller  than  an  iris,  and  plenty 
of  lovely  annuals  such  as  the  buff  Zinnia  Isabellina,  Phlox 
Dnimmondii  Chamois  Rose,  a  few  pink  geraniums,  some  of  the 
pure  violet  petunias,  and  always  and  ever  as  much  white  and 
gray  as  you  can  put  in,  such  as  pinks,  Stachys  lanattty  white 
gladioli,  hardy  gj-psophila,  peonies.  Then  of  a  summer's  eve- 
ning, how  delicious  would  it  be  to  walk  between  your  flowers 
to  your  tree,  there  to  sit  in  the  cool  of  the  day,  and  see  your 
little  garden  that  —  working  with  greater  forces  than  yourself 
—  you  have  made. 

And  now  for  a  few  suggestions  as  to  plant-groups  for  color 
effect.  These  shall  be  taken  mainly  from  the  experience  of 
others,  but  from  sources  which  are  entirely  to  be  relied  upon. 
While  the  gladiolus,  strictly  s])eaking,  is  not  a  perennial,  its 
use  is  so  bound  up  with  that  of  hardy  plants  that  it  almost  falls 
into  their  category.  Therefore  for  our  present  piu-pose  let  us 
consider  it  as  belonging  to  the  perennial  group;  and  here  are 
some  good  arrangements  used  by  a  fine  grower  of  the  flower :  — 

Plant  purple  and  gold-colored  gladioli  with  the  same  tones  of 
Salpiglossis.  A  magnificent  new  violet  gladiolus  was  seen  at 
the  show  of  the  American  Gladiolus  Society  at  Kalamazoo  in 
1922,  a  seedling  of  Vaughan's,  like  Baron  Hulot  but  twice  the 
size  of  that  purple  beauty.  This  is  now  known,  I  think,  as 
the  Sovereign.  In  the  garden  of  the  grower  mentioned  in  a 
former  paragraph,  below  the  Gladioli  and  Salpiglossis,  "at  the 
base  and  grown  together  to  give  added  beauty  were  carpets  of 


58  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

purple  verbena,  purple  phlox,  blue-piu*ple  petunia,  with  here  and 
there  a  touch  of  pink  verbena.  Blue  salvia  (probably  azurea) 
and  gold  Celosia  were  among  the  unusual  things  growing  near 
standard  heliotropes,  while  rising  in  the  background,  bushes  of 
Buddleia  were  covered  with  masses  of  fragrant  flowers."  This 
is  a  nice  picture,  and  such  arrangements  are  not  difficult  to  plan 
with  the  gladiolus  and  perennials,  though  annuals  seem  more 
important  in  the  grouping  described.  Not  enough  celosias  of 
the  newer  types  are  grown  in  our  garden;  the  pale  colored  ones, 
like  the  pale  cannas,  should  be  more  often  seen.  Unlike  the 
canna,  the  celosia's  feathery  look  will  soften  any  group  of  flowers; 
such  an  effect  may  be  gained  with  it  in  the  border  as  is  sometimes 
nicely  secured  by  the  use  of  Tamarix  hispida  in  a  planting  of 
larger  woody  subjects. 

As  an  auspicious  ending  for  this  subject,  let  me  quote  here 
some  color  combinations  from  an  English  writer  who  signs 
himself,  as  well  he  may,  "A  Painter." 

"It  is  not  often  that  one  sees  that  wonderful  shrub  Berheris 
Darwinii  used  in  perfectly  appropriate  company.  A  beautiful 
planting  that  I  saw  this  year  was  a  tall  tree  of  the  barberry 
leaning  up  a  face  of  gray  rock;  leading  to  this  on  either  side  of 
the  path  was  Narcissus  Lucifer,  backed  by  half -shadowed  clumps 
of  the  giant  Crown  Imperial.  The  orange  crowns  of  the  nar- 
cissus took  up  the  color  of  the  barberry,  and  the  pale  yellow 
perianths  seemed  more  beautiful  in  that  place  than  white  ones 
would  have  been. 

"Rosa  Hugonis  is  curiously  beautiful  in  the  company  of 
Solomon's  seal;  Dielytra  spectabilis  and  Iris  flavescens  are  worth 
adding  to  this  group.  Escallonia  Langleyensis  is  splendid  trailing 
over  a  foreground  or  a  wall-planting  of  the  red  valerian.  I 
should  like  to  see  this  on  a  big  scale.  I  notice,  by  the  way,  that 
many  who  know  this  delightful  shrub  do  not  know  the  paler 


VARIETY  IN  PERENNIAL  FLOWERS  59 

but  no  less  beautiful  sort,  Edinburgh,  or  the  Donard  seedlings. 
Edinburgh  is  indispensable.  Here  are  some  groupings  from  the 
herbaceous  border  —  very  simple  ones,  mostly  of  similar  colors : 
Eryngium  Oliverianum  with  MonthreHa  G.  Davison;  Monarda 
didyma  with  red  pentstemons  of  the  color  of  Newbury  Gem; 
Erigeron  Quakeress  with  or  behind  dwarf  purple  lavender ;  ii'ZzMW 
croceum  with  Clematis  recta  flore  pleno;  Ceanothis  Gloire  de 
Versailles  with  Aconitum  rolubile.  Clematis  Perle  d'Azur,  and  a 
foreground  of  Poteniilla  Friedrichseni  ochrolexica.  This  last  group- 
ing is  very  beautiful,  both  in  form  and  color.  Ochroleuca  is 
better  for  the  purpose  than  the  ordinary  P.  Friedrichseni,  being 
paler  in  color,  but  either  will  do;  if  you  can  get  the  clematis 
to  grow  up  into  a  tree,  say  an  apple  tree,  behind  or  among  the 
aconites,  so  much  the  better.  The  aconites  will  run  up  nine 
feet  high  or  more  and  will  need  very  little  staking  if  the  ceano- 
thuses  and  potentillas  support  them  properly.  The  ceanothuses 
should,  of  course,  be  cut  hard  back  in  the  spring,  leaving  those 
at  the  back  rather  taller  bushes  than  the  front  ones. 

"In  conclusion,  have  you  ever  used  Tencrium  fruticans  (on  a 
wall)  as  a  background  to  Gladiolus  primulinus  ?  If  not,  do  try  it; 
it  makes  an  incomparable  foil,  especially  to  the  pure  pale  yellow 
sorts." 

Are  not  these  suggestions  enough  to  stir  the  least  ambitious 
gardener  to  better  efforts?  True  the  Ceanothus  and  the  Teucrium 
are  for  California  gardens,  but  there  are  now  specialists  in 
clematis  in  the  states  of  New  Jersey  and  New  York;  and  as  for 
the  other  names  which  may  be  unfamiliar,  will  not  such  writing 
as  the  above  set  the  gardener  hunting,  seeking  till  he  finds, 
trj'ing  for  himself  these  companionships  in  flowers  ?  There  is  a 
spur  in  hearing  of  things  unknown,  a  spur  to  the  inquiring  mind; 
and  never  will  our  gardens  improve  as  they  should  till  we  realize 
that  still  far  afield  are  many  of  the  greatest  beauties  for  our 


60  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

borders.  Their  getting  may  be  troublesome;  it  involves  work. 
But  when  all  is  said,  it  is  not  love  alone  that  makes  the  garden- 
ing world  go  round,  but  work.  Work  is  the  mainspring  of  the 
garden,  work  of  the  eye,  the  mind,  the  imagination  and  the 
hands.  And  for  those  who  cannot  do  some  type  of  work  in  their 
own  gardens  I  feel  profound  pity.  Young  gardeners  should  dig, 
hoe,  cultivate,  plant;  for  older  ones  there  are  the  lighter  affairs 
of  edging,  pruning,  cutting,  seed-marking,  and  seed-saving, 
staking,  flower-gathering,  tying,  hand- weeding;  there  are  a 
dozen  occupations  for  those  who  cannot  or  should  not  do  the 
heavier  part. 


VARIETY  IN  NEWER  FLOWERS 

The  May  of  last  year,  for  gardens  in  Michigan,  was  truly  the 
merry  month  of  May.  Cold  till  it  opened,  when  each  day  grew 
gradually  more  spring-like,  until  in  a  burst  of  warmth  about 
the  tenth,  every  tree  and  shrub  seemed  to  shout  for  joy  in 
sudden  leaf  and  bloom.  Gentle  rains  fell  at  precisely  the  right 
inter\'als  —  rains  warm  and  soft:  such  rains  as  no  one  but  Mrs. 
Shorter  has  perfectly  translated  into  words. 

All  night  the  small  feet  of  the  rain 

About  my  garden  ran; 
Their  rill-like  voices  called  and  cried 

Until  the  dawn  began. 

May  shrubs  known  to  be  early  and  late  bloomed  together  that 
year.  Spircea  Thunbergii  was  in  snowy  drifts  below  old  lilac 
Charles  X ;  f orsj'thias  held  over  almost  to  these  two,  and  daffo- 
dils and  tulips,  below  these  flowering  things,  made  a  wonderful 
outburst  of  color,  a  flowery  picture,  all  enveloped  in  blossoming 
apple  trees,  Asiatic  crabs  and  cherries.  Indeed  I  remember 
thinking  one  day  that  the  whole  scene  was  far  more  pink  and 
white  than  it  was  green,  yet  below  all  this  lay  the  small  fresh 
leaves  of  spring. 

There  is  early  in  this  month,  however,  a  day  that  exceeds  all 
the  others;  it  is  that  day  on  which  the  apple-tree  boughs  are 
all  studded  with  the  palest  softest  green  of  leaf  buds;  that  day 
on  which  hard  and  soft  maples  are  overlaid  with  a  green  that  is 
almost  yellow,  a  sunny  green;  when  the  Bradshaw  (or  is  it 
Burbank?)  plum  is  set  with  pearls  along  those  drooping  twisting 
up-turning  branches  —  those  branches  that  always  make  me 
think  of  the  lifting  eaves  of  a  Chinese  roof.  This  day,  next  to 


62  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

that  on  which  the  robin  and  the  hyla  are  heard,  is  to  me  the 
moment  of  the  spring. 

At  the  edge  of  a  bit  of  well-kept  greensward,  this  year,  and 
seen  against  it,  there  are  two  or  three  hmidred  bright  pink 
early  tulips.  Prosperity  by  name.  These  are  new  to  me.  They 
are  on  the  order  of  Cottage  Maid,  but  a  deeper  rose  and  running 
in  and  out  of  daffodils  and  tulips  yet  to  be  (that  is,  of  later 
varieties),  their  rose  pink  is  as  yet  the  only  color  against  the 
green.  These  new  tulips  are  seen  through  a  mist  of  that  wonder- 
ful blackish  mauve  of  heavy  lilac  buds,  and  of  tiny  leaf  buds  of 
the  lilacs  too.  Beyond  them  is  a  mass  of  evergreen  foliage 
separated  from  that  by  a  strip  of  smooth  and  sunlit  grass. 
There  is  a  sort  of  exquisite  precision  about  this  picture.  Nothing 
in  nature  is,  I  believe,  stiffer  than  a  single  early  tulip.  It  can- 
not move  much;  it  stays  as  it  is  put.  Winds  do  not  affect  it, 
sun  only  pulls  it  up  the  straighter.  Such  flowers  cannot  be  said 
to  wander  among  others;  they  stalk  among  them. 

Flanked  on  either  side  by  syringas  with  pink  and  lavender 
lilacs  beyond  these,  the  ground  below  them  all  gay  with  yellow 
tulips  Bouton  d'Or  and  Inglescombe  Yellow,  the  walk  in  the 
upper  garden  presents  a  pretty  sight.  The  shadow  of  the  small 
tea-house  in  which  I  sit  falls  along  this  walk  to  the  east;  at  the 
intersection  of  the  walk  four  of  Stark's  Delicious  apple  trees 
(dwarfs),  cast  also  a  dappled  shade  over  the  flowers;  and  aU 
along  on  the  other  side  are  walls  from  six  to  ten  feet  high  of 
those  most  luscious  blooms  of  Lemoine's  hybrids  in  lilacs.  The 
dark  yellow  of  tulip  Bouton  d'Or,  the  lighter  color  of  Inglescombe 
Yellow,  the  thick  clusters  of  pansies  nestling  below  the  tulips, 
the  fragrance  of  the  lilacs  on  the  air  —  what  a  sensation  of 
delight  comes  through  all  this  pageant  of  spring !  Through  the 
young  apple  trees  too,  I  see  on  the  right  the  great  cascades  of 
bloom  of  a  specially  fine  Rouen  lilac,  a  rich  pinkish  purple. 


VARIETY  IN  NEWER  FLOWERS  63 

Tulip  and  iris  both  are  glorified  by  clustering  foregrounds 
of  violas  or  pansies.  We  shall  do  well  to  remember  this,  and 
to  sow  the  seeds  of  these  little  things  before  the  summer  wanes. 
On  the  tenth  of  November  last  year  I  saw  in  two  Detroit  gardens 
magnificent  violas  in  full  bloom  from  seed  sowti  in  the  open  the 
August  before,  purple,  yellow,  lavender  as  large  as  the  biggest 
pansies  —  they  had  come  through  one  or  two  heavy  frosts  with 
no  ill  efTect  whatever.  Pansies  are  perhaps  the  commonest 
possession  in  flowers,  but  their  good  use  is  not  so  general  as 
it  should  be.  One  mercy  —  they  are  seldom  seen  now  in  circles 
at  the  base  of  oaks  or  elms  as  once  they  were.  Sow  their  seed 
in  August  for  bloom  the  following  spring.  They  create  the 
prettiest  possible  companionships  if  grown  in  some  spot  where 
late  tulips  bloom  among  the  blade-like  iris  leaves,  the  iris  flowers 
to  follow. 

Two  new  tulips  caused  me  great  unrest  last  spring.  I  could 
only  read  of,  not  see  them.  One  was  tulip  Fantasy,  a  parrot 
(a  pink  parrot  —  fancy  that!),  described  as  a  glorious  flower  of 
glistening  rich  pink  color,  shaded  with  orange  pink  on  the  inside 
of  its  ragged  segments  and  stained  with  brownish  green  on  the 
outside  of  the  three  outer  ones.  Mr.  Peter  R.  Barr  wrote  that 
this  was  a  new  break  in  parrot  tulips,  that  the  general  tone  is 
of  a  lovely  soft  rose-color,  salmon-rose  within  and  a  large  white 
centre  rayed  blue.  The  flowers,  he  added,  expand  to  a  great  size. 

"Darwin  tulip  Zwanenburg  is  the  only  pure  white  tulip  ex- 
tant," writes  IVIr.  C.  G.  Van  Tubergen,  Jr.  from  Haarlem.  Yet 
the  Barrs  last  year  showed  Carrara,  a  white  Darwin.  Without 
having  seen  these  one  can  easily  foresee  the  manifold  uses  to 
which  a  white  Darwin  may  be  put  both  in  cutting  and  in  the 
border.  To  quote  ]Mr.  Van  Tubergen,  "I  raised  tulip  Zwanen- 
bm-g  from  seed,  and  found  a  single  bulb  about  a  dozen  years  ago 
in  a  batch  of  hybridized  Darwin  tulip  seed.  The  flower  is  pure 


64  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

white,  large  and  solid,  and  the  plant  is  vigorous  and  very  tall." 
It  is  of  course  still  high  in  price,  five  dollars  a  bulb. 

As  gardeners  grow  old  with  their  gardens,  they  acquire  habits 
which  seem  droll  even  to  themselves.  At  least  one  of  mine  seems 
so  to  me.  It  is  this  —  as  spring  opens  and  early  flowers  appear, 
I  proceed  to  place  on  a  table  close  to  the  library  door  one  or 
two  books  or  pamphlets  bearing  upon  things  coming  into  bloom. 
One  may  then  notice  at  any  hour  of  the  day,  a  wildly-rushmg 
figure  bursting  from  this  door,  book  in  hand,  making  hastily  for 
tree,  shrub  or  plant  and  standing  before  it,  exactly  as  in  years 
gone  by  she  has  stood  with  the  red  Baedeker  before  the  Laocoon 
or  the  Winged  Victory.  It  is  surely  from  that  early  habit  that 
this  has  come. 

Yet  how  inevitable  is  this  connection  between  books  and 
gardening  —  there  is  absolutely  no  highly  intelligent  gardening 
without  the  printed  page.  As  the  Japanese  cherries  are  about 
to  open,  and  the  Japanese  crabs  are  soon  to  follow,  the  table 
has  a  small  pile  of  the  bulletins  of  popular  information  from  the 
Arnold  Arboretum  —  delightful  bulletins  of  Professor  Sargent's 
own  writing,  those  on  Asiatic  cherries  and  apples,  those  on  new 
shrubs,  also  E.  H.  Wilson's  book.  The  Cherries  of  Japan.  These 
are  now  well  worn,  for  they  have  felt  sun  and  shower.  They  are 
actual  treasures  of  learning  concerning  the  delicious  trees  they 
discuss,  and  ease  tremendously  my  usual  spring  agony  of  know- 
ing so  little  about  everything  I  see. 

For  irises  the  new  Bulletins  of  the  American  Iris  Society  will 
be  ever  by  my  side  in  June,  as  I  look  at  the  various  varieties  — 
as  well  as  Dykes  near  by.  Peonies  bring  Mrs.  Harding  to  the 
fore;  her  tables  are  true  stand-bys  for  identification;  and  then 
there  are  two  Cornell  Bulletins  which  are  constantly  in  use  in 
peony  time.  These  are  numbers  278  and  306,  and  as  I  under- 
stand it,  they  can  be  had  for  the  asking  from  Cornell  University. 


VARIETY  IN  NEWER  FLO\VERS  65 

About  five  years  ago  Professor  Sargent  gave  me  seed  of  various 
Japanese  crabs  and  cherries;  these  we  sowed  in  autumn  that 
they  might  crack  with  the  freezing  of  the  ground,  and  from  them 
we  grew  many  little  trees  most  of  which  we  gave  away  for  lack 
of  room  here.  We  kept  perhaps  a  dozen,  among  these  Pruniis 
subhirtella  and  P.  Sargentii.  A  young  Prunus  subhirtella  starred 
with  buds  is  a  charming  sight.  This  Japanese  cherry  here  is  now 
seven  feet  tall,  and  along  its  upright  boughs  are  countless  stifliy 
held-out  buds  of  a  dull  pink,  which  will  soon  open  into  flowers 
of  a  clear  light  pink  hue.  Then  the  little  tree  will  be  a  bouquet 
of  bloom.  Some  of  these  Asiatic  cherries  produce  leaves  and 
flowers  at  the  same  time,  but  flowers  of  Prunus  subhirtella  ap- 
pear before  the  leaves  and  the  tree  itself  will  grow  to  a  height  of 
forty  feet.  Such  cherries  bloom  here  with  single  early  tulips; 
and  the  creamy  ones,  such  as  Brimhilde,  would  be  beautiful  on 
the  ground  below  where  the  trees  stand  in  open  soil,  or  possibly 
in  gardens  intended  primarily  for  spring.  The  primness  of 
Brunhilde  (how  odd  that  sounds!)  may  well  be  relieved  by  an 
intermingling  of  a  cream-white  daffodil  such  as  White  Lady, 
which  with  us  is  fairly  early.  And  even  though  these  daffodils 
should  not  open  with  the  cherry  blossoms,  their  tall  and  waving 
leaves  would  greatly  improve  the  look  of  the  stiff  early  tulip, 
tied  tight  to  the  ground  as  that  always  is  by  its  short  stem.  A 
tuft  or  so  of  rock  cress  {Arabis  alpina),  especially  of  the  delightful 
double  variety,  should  give  grace  to  such  a  pictm-e  as  this; 
and  while  the  cress  spreads,  one  can  always  set  bulbs  among  the 
plants  in  the  autumn. 

I  do  not  mean  by  this  suggestion  of  planting  beneath  cherries 
that  such  planting  should  run  close  to  the  roots  of  the  trees. 
Ordinarily  I  am  opposed  to  flowers  close  to  tree  trunks  in 
man-made  spots.  Wliat  horrors  reach  our  vision  occasionally, 
as  I  have  said  before,  —  pansies  in  cut-out  circles  close  to  the 


66  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

boles  of  great  maples  or  elms,  the  sublime  and  the  ridiculous, 
Dignity  and  Impudence,  as  Landseer's  old  picture  has  it!  No. 
I  mean  that  little  reaches  of  these  cream-white,  low-growing 
flowers  of  spring  somewhere  beyond  or  in  the  foreground  of 
Prunus  subhirtella  would  surely  mean  an  added  interest  in  the 
tree  as  part  of  a  composition  while  that  tree  is  young. 

Another  use  of  these  lovely  cherries  is  the  setting  of  them 
wide  apart  in  rows  along  a  broad  walk,  with  flowery  borders 
below  them  reaching  from  tree  to  tree.  Such  a  picture  is  seen 
in  Sir  Herbert  Maxwell's  Scottish  Gardens,  opposite  page  46. 
In  the  simplest  of  Perthshire  gardens,  "Gartincaber,"  its  walls 
overlaid  with  that  mellow  beauty,  the  patina  of  time,  here  are 
flowering,  below  blossoming  trees,  aconites  and  snowdrops, 
daffodils  and  windflowers,  bloodroot,  violets  white  and  purple, 
primroses  and  oxslips  of  many  hues  —  "all  old  friends,  the  older 
the  better  to  be  loved,"  says  Sir  Herbert.  These  border  a  broad 
walk,  interrupted  by  an  old  dial,  great  trees  and  ancient  walls 
and  towers  beyond,  with  violet  shadows  throwing  lovely  net- 
work along  the  path  so  edged  with  flowers  of  spring. 

Suppose  for  one  week  in  spring  in  some  small  American  garden 
a  great  outburst  of  gay  color  be  required.  Punctuate  little  cross 
walks  of  such  a  garden  at  intervals  of  ten  feet  with  Prunus 
triloba  on  its  own  roots.  Let  a  multitude  of  hyacinths  and  tulips 
glow  below  the  almond,  planted  either  in  stiff  rows  —  really  a 
parterre  —  or  in  loose  drifts,  and  see  what  strange  new  ecstasies 
the  month  of  May  will  bring.  Malus  Arnoldiana,  set  between 
the  flowering  almonds  in  the  rows  or  interspersed  among  these 
where  there  is  room  for  large  plantings,  would  give  two  weeks 
of  pink  buds  and  flowers.  Another  week  might  readily  be  added 
by  planting  in  such  a  place  Bechtel's  crab.  Fancy  three  weeks 
of  rosy  bloom  in  May,  each  type  of  flowering  tree  not  to  be 
really  missed  as  its  successor  begins  to  flower. 


V.\RIETY  IN  NEWER  FLOWERS  67 

I  have  before  me  a  photograph  which  shows  a  spring  border 
in  a  Sussex  garden  —  evidently  a  new  border,  for  the  box  edg- 
ing is  very  small,  and  the  little  evergreen  hedge  beyond  is  also 
yomig.  The  one  defect,  to  me,  is  the  use  of  smooth  stone  balls 
with  the  rough  wall.  The  ornament  is  not  quite  in  place;  also 
the  stiff  flagged  walk  would  have  been  more  nearly  related  to 
the  rest  if  made  of  broken  stone  —  or  I  may  be  wrong  in  this. 
It  is  all,  perhaps,  personal  taste. 

Who  does  not  constantly  seek  more  pure  blue  in  gardens,  and 
who  that  knows  the  new  Ipomoea  from  Mexico  does  not  rejoice 
in  the  blue  mornings  that  this  gives  the  garden?  To  be  sure,  it 
is  only  morning  beauty,  but  the  leaves  and  the  heavy  twining 
stems  add  an  all-day  interest  to  the  Clematis  recta  or  the  old 
Delphinium  stalks  over  which  these  are  twined.  New,  I  called 
them  just  now;  it  has  been  known  to  horticulture  for  a  century 
and  over,  but  only  as  a  greenhouse  plant  in  northern  climates. 
A  word  of  the  history  of  this  amazing  contribution  to  our  gar- 
dens may  be  given  here.  Twenty  years  ago  Michel  received 
from  the  Sierra  Madre  in  Mexico  the  seed  of  this  Ipomaa.  He 
got  it  to  bloom  and  even  to  form  seed  in  his  garden  near  Geneva 
in  1900.  Then,  years  after  this,  the  Vilmorins  in  their  establish- 
ment at  Antibes  produced  from  this  strain  an  early-flowering 
variety,  which  during  the  last  few  years  has  bloomed  near  Paris 
as  early  as  the  end  of  August. 

There  are  three  reasons  for  growing  this  Ipomoea  as  opposed 
to  the  common  variety :  its  flowers  are  far  larger  than  any  other, 
mine  measuring  to-day  five  inches  across;  its  blue  is  miequaled; 
and  toward  autumn  its  vines  become  more  and  more  floriferous. 
It  is  a  thing  to  wait  for.  It  supplies  the  clearest  blue  possible 
for  the  late  August  borders.  For  those  who  live  with  their  gar- 
dens, who  see  them  during  the  morning  as  well  as  in  the  later 
hours,  it  is  a  boon  in  flowers.  Vilmorin  in  Paris,  Sutton  in  Eng- 


68  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

land,  and  in  this  country  Vaughan  of  New  York  and  Chicago 
offer  the  seed  of  this  adorable  plant. 

Were  we  not  all  familiar  in  our  youth  with  the  morning  glory 
advancing  along  its  small  white  strings,  the  orthodox  guiding 
given  it  years  ago  on  its  aspiring  way?  But  now  there  is  another 
and  a  better  management  for  such  climbing  flowering  things. 
Here  above  my  head  as  I  write,  on  a  garden  arch,  that  pale 
mauve  clematis  Mme.  Edouard  Andre  has  flung  out  a  ravishing 
garland  of  large  flowers.  Incidentally  I  wish  more  of  our  gardens 
had  these  large  flowering  clematises  in  their  beds  and  borders. 
Clematis  Stella  Dwyer,  a  climbing  Davidii,  is  now  in  its  second 
year,  a  great  flowering  bush  of  delicate  lavender  bells;  and  back 
of  it,  to  return  to  our  subject,  that  magnificent  blue  of  the 
I'pomcea  ruhro-coBrulea  (var.  prcBCox)  is  just  beginning  to  show 
its  beauty,  and  as  the  new  hardy  aster  near  by  from  Totty 
(Mrs.  D.  Mitchell,  said  to  be  a  very  beautiful  pink,  finer  than 
St.  Egwin)  comes  into  its  full  bloom,  I  look  for  such  an  effect 
as  Mrs.  Lloyd  has  achieved  in  her  lovely  Haverf  ord  garden  where 
the  Ipomcea  wreaths  its  sky-blue  fans  about  tall  plants  of  Aster 
tataricus.  Both  were  in  full  beauty  in  early  October  of  last  year. 

It  is  vitally  necessary,  in  order  to  have  the  Mexican  morning- 
glory  in  bloom  by  August  in  the  border,  that  it  should  be  started 
early  in  pots,  the  plants  set  out  after  danger  from  frost  is  over. 

As  I  was  writing  the  few  sentences  above,  in  came  an  English 
journal  with  one  of  Miss  Jekyll's  short  articles  called  "Regu- 
lating the  Flower  Border,'*  in  which  the  writer  tells  of  a  strong- 
growing  hybrid  clematis,  planted  just  behind  an  everflowering 
pea,  to  bloom  in  August  after  the  pea  bloom  is  over.  "The 
clematis,"  says  Miss  Jekyll,  "is  a  natural  hybrid  that  occurred 
in  the  garden ;  the  parentage  is  evidently  C.  vitalba  and  C.  David- 
iana.  The  same  cross  has  taken  place  in  other  gardens,  and  I 
believe  has  been  given  a  name,  which  at  the  moment  I  do  not 


Iponuia  Ruhro-arrulea  and  Clematis  Stella  Dicijer 


VARIETY  IN  NEWER  FLOWERS  69 

recall."  This  I  thought  might  be  Stella  Dwyer.  I  sent  a  photo- 
graph to  Miss  Jekyll  for  identification,  and  received  this  in- 
teresting reply:  "Your  clematis  is  so  much  like  mine  I  think  we 
may  safely  conclude  that  it  is  the  same,  and  that  when  the  two 
evident  parents  are  in  one  garden,  the  cross  is  likely  to  occur. 
It  has  been  noted,  and  I  think  named,  in  other  gardens  also.  It 
is  evidently  Davidiana  and  vitalba.  It  is  like  vitalha  in  its  rampant 
growth,  but  like  Davidiana  in  being  herbaceous.  Anyhow,  it  is 
a  useful  plant.  I  had  two  that  appeared  in  different  parts  of 
the  garden :  one  nearly  white,  the  other  tinged  bluish.  It  is  best 
used  rambling  through  something  bushy.  My  oldest  plant 
rushes  up  a  holly." 

Staked  to  about  four  feet  and  a  half,  our  own  plants  with 
their  rich  foliage  are  thickly  set  with  great  clusters  of  gray-green 
buds  almost  as  heavy  as  grapes,  and  their  lavender-blue  flowers 
with  white  centres  are  opening  from  these.  To  the  tip  of  every 
curving  spray  are  clusters  of  these  enchanting  buds  and  flowers. 
Clematis  Stella  Dwyer  should  never  be  absent  from  any  garden 
or  border  where  variety  is  a  thing  desired.  Like  all  of  the  family, 
the  plant  loves  lime.  Its  photograph  with  the  new  Mexican 
morning-glory  appears  opposite  page  68. 

Always  and  ever  am  I  sounding  the  praises  of  Hall's  amaryllis, 
Lycoris  squamigeray  and  how  can  I  forbear  to  do  this  when  each 
year  sees  this  garden  more  and  more  lovely  for  its  blooming  in 
mid-August.  This  is  the  flower  of  da\vTi.  All  the  hues  of  the 
earliest  sky  are  in  these  petals  —  rose,  pale  violet,  faint  blue. 
The  effect  in  the  late  evening  light  is  of  mounds  of  pure  rosy 
pink.  It  harmonizes  with  everything  aroimd  it.  It  glorifies 
the  garden  from  morning  to  night,  and  gives  me  many 
penitent  moments  as  I  think  of  my  impatience  with  the  too- 
long  lingering  of  its  heavy  drooping  leaves  throughout  the 
early  summer. 


70  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

A  cream  white  delphinium  of  Blackmore  and  Langdon's  has 
been  attracting  much  attention  at  EngHsh  shows  lately,  Mrs. 
Christie  Miller.  This  is  a  tall  plant,  and  seed  of  it  may  be  got 
from  this  firm  at  a  shilling  a  packet.  Some  of  the  best  varieties 
of  delphiniums  which  have  been  special  favorites  of  my  own, 
in  the  past,  are  now  ungettable  because  of  the  quarantine,  and 
also  because  of  the  fact  that  they  do  not  seed;  these  are  Capri, 
J.  S.  Brunton  and  Moerheimei.  As  for  Gibson's  delphiniums, 
some  few  spikes  of  which  are  before  me  in  an  old  Venetian 
goblet  as  I  write  (spikes  taken  from  first  blooms,  therefore  not 
really  representative),  two  inches  seems  to  be  the  smallest 
measurement  of  the  individual  florets.  Faint  mauves  with  pale 
sky  blues,  the  blue  of  a  Parisian  sky  in  which  are  purples  against 
sapphire  blue,  one  of  the  paler  colored  ones  with  great  "bees" 
in  the  centre  of  each  flower  —  all  the  range  of  larkspur  color  is 
reflected  in  these  flowers.  They  will  be  a  glorious  addition  to 
our  garden  subjects.  These  are  said  to  be  the  very  finest  of  their 
kind,  yet  after  this  superlative  is  used,  here  are  others  of  these 
flowers,  the  Wrexham  delphiniums  which  bid  fair  to  surpass  all 
thus  far  known.  Mr.  Samuel  of  King's  Mills  House,  Wrexham, 
England,  is  growing  and  showing  these  now.  He  means  to  do 
away  entirely  with  the  stiff  and  tightly  packed  spike,  to  lengthen 
it  to  four  feet  of  bloom,  and  to  get  the  large  flowers  held  well 
away  from  the  stalks.  The  lower  flowers  will  be  three  to  four 
inches  in  diameter,  and  the  inner  petals  of  these  are  to  be  frilled. 
So  much  of  all  this  has  been  accomplished,  so  magnificent  are 
the  results  already  seen  and  known,  that  all  who  are  interested 
in  gardens  should  be  on  the  watch  for  these  new  and  glorious 
things.  "An  American,"  says  the  Rev.  Joseph  Jacob,  "wrote 
of  some  second-quality  seed  that  Mr.  Samuel  had  sold  him,  *If 
your  second-quality  seed  produces  such  flowers  as  it  has  given 
me,  what  on  earth  must  the  results  of  your  first  quality  be  like? ' " 


VARIETY  IN  NEWER  FLOWERS  71 

The  beautiful  Korean  clematis,  C.  tanguHca,  is  now  in  bloom 
also.  The  buds  of  this  vine  are  held  on  a  stiff  little  green  stem 
to  within  an  eighth  of  an  inch  of  the  bud,  when  they  suddenly 
drop  at  a  perfect  right  angle  and  the  dome-shaped  bud  hangs 
with  its  point  downward.  So  hangs  the  flower  too  when  opened; 
its  four  petals  are  seldom  widely  apart,  but  form  a  bell-shaped 
bloom  of  pale  straw  color;  the  leaves  are  long  and  narrow.  To 
my  thinking,  a  lovelier  creeper  than  this  never  came  to  us  from 
over  the  sea.  It  is  a  native  of  western  China.  But  an  equally 
lovely  one  is  Ampelopsis  aconitifola.  Mr.  E.  H.  Wilson  calls  the 
foliage  of  this  vine  the  most  delicate  and  attractive  of  that  of 
all  climbers.  "  The  finely  dissected  leaves  are  highly  interesting 
and  the  small  fruit  changes  as  it  ripens  from  yellow  to  blue  and 
pale  purple." 

On  my  table,  as  I  write,  is  a  spray  of  that  handsome,  yet 
comparatively  little-known,  honeysuckle,  Lonicera  Heckrottii. 
For  at  least  two  months  with  us,  from  mid-June  to  mid-August, 
this  climber  is  covered  with  flowers.  They  lack  fragrance  but 
this  is  balanced  by  their  color,  which  is  both  unusual  and  lovely. 
Deep  rose-color  without,  pale  yellow  within,  not  unlike  the 
general  tones  of  tulip  Kaufmannianay  the  clusters  of  flowers  are 
very  striking,  and  in  the  Arnold  Arboretum  Professor  Sargent 
has  noticed  —  and  noted  —  that  the  vine  flowers  more  con- 
stantly and  more  persistently  than  any  other  plant  in  the  col- 
lections. One  must  admit  that  this  is  saying  much. 

Three  magnificent  lilacs  must  now  come  in  for  consideration, 
but  since  time  and  space  are  limited,  one  can  do  barely  more 
than  name  them :  they  are  macrostachya,  pubescens  and  Swegin- 
zoivii  superha:  the  first  a  charming  pale  pink  with  tremendous 
thyrses  of  flowers;  the  next  a  tree  of  fine  palest  lavender  flowers 
with  a  most  heliotrope-like  fragrance;  the  last  a  very  dream 
of  beauty  in  lilacs,  a  fountain  of  delicate  blush-white  flowers. 


72  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

as  fine  as  those  of  Artimisia  lactiflora.  Mr.  Havemeyer  has 
this  lilac  on  his  selling-lists;  it  is  very  rare  and  has  not  been 
long  in  American  gardens. 

On  my  table  lie  two  large  flowers  ready  to  undergo  examina- 
tion for  color-naming  with  the  charts;  they  are  superb  together 

—  a  mere  chance  this  —  but  so  suggestive  that  I  must  make 
note  of  it.  Gladiolus  Louise  and  Ipomcea  ruhro-coerulea  are  the 
two.  The  gladiolus  is  of  a  light  pinkish  mauve,  large  and  clear 
in  color.  Somewhere  before,  I  regretfully  admit,  I  have  said 
that  this  gladiolus  was  not  specially  to  my  liking;  I  could  not 
have  seen  it  in  full  beauty,  for  I  think  it  now  one  of  the  best  of 
its  kind;  and  this  with  the  brilliant  blue  of  the  Mexican  morning 
glory  is  a  glorious  sight  in  flowers.  What  companions  for  each 
other  in  the  border!  and  how  I  wish  I  had  grown  Louise  this 
year  for  this  blue  neighboring !  The  actual  color  of  the  Ipomoea  in 
Ridgway  lies  between  Paris-blue  and  methyl-blue;  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  find  the  exact  tone  in  this  chart;  in  the  French  chart, 
however,  the  blue  of  the  flower  leaped  out  at  me  from  plate  213 

—  royal  blue;  there  was  never  a  more  instant  matching  of  a 
color  than  in  this  case.  The  chart-colors  for  Louise  are:  — 

Ridgway:  Mallow  pink  to  pale  amaranth  pink;  markings  on 

lower  central  petals  rhodamine  purple. 
French  chart:  Purplish  mauve  Plate  186-1 ;  with  deeper  tones 
toward  ends  of  petals,  in  fact  almost  a  pure  mauve. 
Markings  on  lower  petals  rosy  magenta,  169-2. 
The  flower  is  a  light  clear  pinkish  mauve,  particularly  good  in 
the  garden  or  for  cutting  in  association  with  pale  yellow,  blue 
or  violet  flowers;  it  is  a  fine  subject  for  either  use. 

No  grower  of  roses  myself,  I  rather  hesitate  to  discuss  them ; 
yet  this  last  June  in  the  garden  of  the  president  of  the  American 
Rose  Society,  Mr.  J.  H.  Mc  Farland,  at  Harrisburg,  I  saw  so 
lovely  a  new  climbing  rose  that  I  must  mention  it  here.   This 


VARIETY  IN  NEWER  FLOWERS  73 

was  Emily  Gray,  a  hardy  rose  with  an  orange-colored  bud.  The 
flower  is  large  and  of  a  clear  yellow,  changing  the  second  day 
to  more  of  a  buff,  with  a  rich,  almost  spicy  fragrance.  Also  in 
this  garden  I  saw  these  four  fine  climbers  or  ramblers,  planted 
in  this  order:  Mrs.  M.  H.  Walsh,  the  white  rambler  the  latest 
of  all  ramblers  to  bloom;  Oriflamme,  of  a  most  charming  pale 
pink,  with  bright  yellow  stamens  and  a  yellowish  centre  pro- 
ducing a  glowing  effect,  which  of  course  gives  this  rose  its  name; 
Aviateur  Bleriot,  that  beautiful  copper-colored  rambler  with  its 
delicious  scent,  a  great  favorite  of  my  own;  and  Ghiselaine  de 
Feligonde,  that  fine  thing  from  Bobbink  and  Atkins,  again  one 
of  the  warm  coppery  yellows,  with  an  orange  bud  and  rich 
fragrance.  A  new  Wickuriana,  Jacotte  by  name,  is  said  to  be  a 
sensation  among  French  roses :  it  is  one  of  those  apricot-colored 
roses  that  are  now  popular;  and  Glow-worm,  a  magnificent  new 
bush-rose,  very  thorny  (like  Souvenir  de  Claudius  Fernet  in 
that),  has  a  marvelous  orange-red  color. 

Ageratum  Fraseri  was  a  discovery  of  last  year  in  annuals. 
This,  so  much  larger  in  flower,  so  much  richer  in  lavender  hue 
than  any  of  the  named  varieties  whose  seed  we  are  accustomed 
to  indulge  in  buying  each  spring,  is  a  very  dwarf  plant,  and  ex- 
ceedingly good  in  association  with  others.  It  blooms  early  from 
seed;  it  is  only  about  ten  inches  high;  its  panicles  of  bloom  are 
very  large  and  effective;  and  as  a  novelty  in  annuals  for  the 
front  of  the  border,  helping  all  by  its  color,  hurting  none,  it 
will  have  a  great  place  in  our  gardens.  I  first  used  it  with  Phlox 
Drummondii  Chamois  Rose  on  either  side  of  our  short  brick 
walk;  this  year  it  is  there  once  more  but  fronting  a  geranium 
just  now  offered  for  the  first  time  —  Mrs.  Richard  F.  Gloede: 
a  flower  of  such  brilliant  yet  deep  rose  color  that  it  almost 
dazzles  one  to  look  at  the  blooms  in  bright  sunlight.  In  the 
juxtaposition  of  these  two  there  is  the  liveliest  possible  effect. 


74  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

and  where  gay  color  is  needed  in  any  garden,  I  suggest  the  use 
of  these  two  new  things  in  association  with  each  other. 

Much  as  one  dislikes  the  idea  of  mere  size  in  flowers,  strange 
though  it  seems  to  consider  size  at  all  in  thinking  of  this  de- 
licious flower,  the  astounding  thing  is  that  heliotrope  Royal 
Fragrance,  with  us  this  summer,  measured  ten  inches  across  one 
cluster  of  bloom.  Then  there  was  no  scent?  will  be  at  once  the 
challenge.  Yes,  there  was  a  rich,  full  perfume  for  every  inch, 
and  a  fine  deep  tone  of  purple  too  in  the  flower.  The  leaves  of 
Royal  Fragrance  are  of  a  dark  and  striking  green,  their  texture 
is  almost  as  stout  as  that  of  a  viburnum;  and  as  these  plants 
in  the  garden  form  a  low  foreground  for  delphinium  in  its  second 
florescence,  with  Hall's  amaryllis  in  its  pale  beauty  beside,  also 
some  young  flowers  of  buff  Zinnia  Isabellina  near  by,  one  can 
perhaps  imagine  the  charm  of  this  grouping.  The  flat  panicles 
of  the  heliotrope  create  a  nice  contrast  of  form  with  the  upright 
flowers  beyond  them,  and  the  colors  here,  all  pale  violet,  blue, 
mauve  and  buff,  call  me  many  times  a  day  to  look  with  pleasure 
upon  a  garden  picture  that  is  well  nigh  perfect. 

Autumn's  trilling  insect  sounds  are  in  the  air;  the  leaves  of 
Carolina  poplar  and  of  willow,  always  too  ready  to  fall,  strew 
the  ground  and  give  a  feeling  of  impending  change.  Apples  are 
ripening;  others  hang  green  globes  among  thick  leaves  in  clusters 
to  please  Luca  Delia  Robbia  or  his  nephew;  the  first  rudbeck- 
ias  are  blooming;  late  lilies  such  as  Henryi  droop  with  graceful 
apricot  flowers  under  the  hot  August  sun  and  with  no  rain  for 
their  refreshment;  even  old  peony  plants  languish  a  little;  but 
in  the  garden  (which  has  been  kept  moist  by  allowing  full  force 
of  water  to  run  along  the  roots  of  flowers)  annuals  are  gaily 
blooming  and  many,  like  pink  mallows  and  creamy  balsams,  are 
just  opening  their  first  buds. 


VARIETY  IN  NEWER  FLOWERS  75 

Out  of  the  treasury  of  new  things  in  horticulture,  how  few 
have  been  mentioned  here  —  of  how  few  do  I  really  know;  but 
each  hitherto  unfamiliar  loveliness  in  plant,  flower,  shrub  and 
tree  leaves  the  true  gardener  ever  keener,  ever  more  enraptured. 
Through  these  he  catches  a  glimpse  of  what  is  yet  to  be  in  garden 
beauty,  and  of  what  he  himself  may  achieve  in  adding  to  that 
loveliness.  For  this  is  no  will  o'  the  wisp  that  we  chase  in  gar- 
dening; this  is  a  permanent  enrichment  of  all  life,  and  one  which 
we  may  will  to  our  inheritors,  as  a  possession  to  charm  them 
throughout  their  days. 


VI 

VARIETY  IN  SHRUBS 

Under  this  heading,  with  one  exception,  we  shall  discuss  only- 
shrubs  less  familiar  to  the  average  gardener.  We  pass  by,  though 
not  as  obsolete,  the  commonly  used  spiraeas  such  as  Vanhouttei, 
the  better  known  viburnums  (F.  opulus  for  instance  and  its 
Japanese  variety),  the  common  barberries  and  flowering  cur- 
rants, the  older  kinds  of  lilacs  and  of  mock  orange.  And  for  this 
reason:  among  recent  introductions  in  all  these  families  there 
are  such  beauties  as  only  need  to  be  made  known,  to  be  tried,  in 
order  to  become  as  precious  as  those  we  have  so  long  grown  in 
quantity.  How  shall  we  create  variety  in  our  gardens  if  we  grow 
only  Thunberg's  barberry,  the  common  lilac,  SpircBa  Vanhouttei, 
and  Philadelphus  coronarius  to  fill  every  foot  of  space  allotted 
to  shrubs?  One  of  the  main  pleasures  of  planting  is  the  looking 
forward  to  the  behavior  of  a  shrub  new  to  us.  What  will  its  leaf- 
buds  be  like.'^  How  early  will  they  appear?  How  soon  may 
flowers  be  expected?  How  will  this  shrub  flourish  in  this  soil, 
climate,  exposure?  These  are  questions  that  imfailingly  arise 
after  an  indulgence  in  new  shrubs.  It  is  the  sort  of  question  that 
sustains  the  eager  spirit  through  all  the  months  when  tree  and 
shrub  stand  bare.  These  months  must  be  faced,  got  over;  and 
the  best  weapon  with  which  to  vanquish  them  is  the  anticipation 
of  change,  of  variety. 

Before  proceeding  to  some  of  the  newer  viburnums,  lilacs,  and 
cotoneasters,  I  have  a  word  to  say  on  the  Japanese  quince,  for 
I  hold  this  one  of  the  shrubs  indispensable  —  this  which  flares 
so  gloriously  into  bloom  each  May.  Among  many  on  this  place, 
we  have  six  whose  flowers  are  decidedly  different  from  each 


VARIETY  IN  SHRUBS  77 

other;  and  turning  to  a  notebook  I  give  here  the  colors  of  these 
according  to  the  two  color  charts  in  most  frequent  use,  Ridg- 
way's  and  the  French  Repertoire  des  Couleurs.  The  first  quince 
blossom  examined  was  of  medium  size.  Ridgway's  color  for  this 
was  sea-shell  pink  to  rose  dore;  the  French,  plate  Q5,  all  tones, 
through  plates  73  and  74,  and  touched  with  the  color  on  plate 
108  —  a  flower  of  many  hues,  truly  a  shaded  flower,  and  beau- 
tiful beyond  description  on  its  bough  in  May. 

The  flowers  of  number  two  were  very  small  and  grew  in  tufts: 

—  Ridgway  chart,  coral  red;  French,  75-4  to  76-3.  Nmnber 
three  was  a  medium  sized  flower  of  whose  color  Ridgway's 
jasper  red  gave  a  near  though  not  exact  idea;  French,  80-3. 
In  this  quince  the  flowers  grew  in  bunches  along  the  stem,  two 
to  four  together.  Number  four  was  a  fairly  large  quince  blossom : 

—  Ridgway's,  coral  red;  French,  75-76.  Five  was  a  glori- 
ously colored  flower  immense  in  size  for  this  type  of  bloom, 
growing  on  tall,  strong  bushes:  —  Ridgway,  geranium  pink  to 
begonia  rose;  French,  106  all  tones  to  121  all  tones.  This  is  a 
magnificent  quince  when  in  bloom,  indeed  the  bushes  are  superb 
at  all  times;  the  foliage  with  its  yoimger  madder-brown  leaflets 
is  always  good  to  see.  The  last  quince  blossom  of  this  list  was 
quite  different  from  those  already  named :  number  six  was  white 
like  an  apple  blossom,  but  touched  with  that  charming  hue 
known  in  Ridgway  as  hermosa  pink,  and  in  the  French  chart 
(plate  118),  all  shades. 

If  these  charts  were  before  the  reader,  if  he  could  follow  these 
notes  with  those  delicious  color-books  beside  this,  he  would 
perceive  the  remarkable  range  of  color  in  the  flowers  of  this  one 
shrub.  Choenomeles  is  the  new  botanical  name  for  this  group  of 
plants;  and  besides  C.  japonica,  which  is  the  quince  we  used  to 
call  Pyrus  or  Cijdonia  Japonica,  there  is  C.  maulei,  which  an- 
swers in  the  descriptions  of  its  orange-colored  flowers  to  the 


78  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

first  on  my  list  given  here.  I  could  easily  identify  by  name  the 
various  quince  flowers  of  our  borders;  this  is  a  superficial  method 
of  identification,  but  it  has  its  conveniences.  Under  C.  japonica 
Bailey  lists  twenty-one  varieties;  under  C.  Maulei,  whose  habit 
of  growth  is  dwarf,  three.  The  Japanese  quince  is  an  adorable 
subject  for  the  small  place;  and  if  due  regard  is  had  to  spraying 
—  for  this  tribe  is  terribly  susceptible  to  the  scale  —  and  if  one 
remembers  that  its  buds  will  suffer  in  occasional  cold  winters 
in  the  latitude  of  Boston,  then  the  wonderful  glow  of  its  spring 
bloom  will  repay  all  the  care  given. 

As  for  proper  placing  of  this  gay  beauty  with  regard  to  other 
shrubs,  use  if  possible  near  it  (back  of  it,  for  preference)  bushes 
of  Rosa  rubrifolia  with  its  "plum-red"  foliage,  to  use  Miss 
Waterfield's  nice  adjective,  or  else  near  the  reddish  kinds  of 
Japanese  maple.  Miss  Waterfield  has  a  charming  picture  in 
color  in  her  book,  Garden  Colour,  of  Japanese  quince,  with  the 
brown-madder  foliage  of  tall  tea-roses  back  of  it,  a  foreground 
for  all  the  delicate  blues  and  greens  of  a  spreading  spring  land- 
scape. "The  red  japonica  is  also  very  effective.  We  have  a 
cascade  of  it  over  the  roof  of  a  tool  house.  On  a  gray  morning 
it  is  delightful  to  look  up  and  catch  the  rose-red  branches  against 
the  boughs  of  the  elms  still  bare  and  silhouetted  against  the  sky." 

As  to  the  use  of  flowering  shrubs  in  the  little  garden,  how  shall 
any  arbitrary  rules  be  laid  down?  None  may  or  can  be;  but 
there  are  two  paths  safe  to  venture  upon  in  this  province:  one, 
the  principle  of  restraint  in  the  variety  of  shrubs  in  a  small 
place;  the  other,  the  idea  of  the  value  and  beauty  of  one  single 
fine  specimen  if  properly  used.  Mr.  Glutton-Brock's  words 
always  come  to  mind  here  and  are  well  illustrated  by  the  simple 
planting  in  the  picture  opposite  this  page.  "A  single  flowering 
shrub,  rightly  placed  in  front  of  a  dark  barrier  of  greenery,  has 
your  eye  to  itself  and  satisfies  it,  like  an  altarpiece  in  a  quiet 


"A  single Jiourrinf)  .shnth,  rightli/  placed,  has  your  eye  to  itself 


VARIETY  IN  SHRUBS  79 

church."  Nothing  more  beautiful  than  this  has  been  said  by 
way  of  suggestion,  never  has  advice  been  more  beautifully  given. 
Unless  restraint  in  variety  is  practiced  with  such  subjects,  the 
garden  will  become  a  hodgepodge,  a  fussy,  spotty  place,  restless 
and  wretched.  When  shrubs  are  used  as  screens,  groups  are  of 
necessity  large,  but  the  main  groups,  composed  probably  of 
three,  five  or  seven  shrubs,  should  be  in  each  case  of  some  one 
variety. 

Turning  now  to  the  newer  shrubs,  perhaps  the  one  that  may 
be  singled  out  as  most  entirely  suitable  for  the  little  garden  is 
Viburnum  Carlesii,  a  native  of  Korea.  What  sympathy  I  feel 
for  all  who  do  not  know  this  yet!  \Miat  delight  will  be  theirs 
when  first  they  see  its  white  flowers  and  rosy  buds  in  May,  as 
they  catch  that  delicious  fragrance  —  unlike  the  best  rich  scents, 
those  of  gardenia  and  of  lemon-blossom,  yet  like  them;  as  they 
see  the  color  of  this  viburnum's  leaves  in  late  October,  a  very 
dark  and  dusky  crimson,  almost  a  reddish  bronze.  All  these 
pleasures  (and  are  there  higher  or  more  keen.'')  await  him  who 
invests  two  or  three  dollars  in  this  hardy  shrub.  Viburnum 
Carlesii's  suitability  for  the  small  place  lies  in  its  dwarf  habit. 
It  grows  to  be  about  three  feet  high,  is  rather  spreading,  and 
makes  a  capital  foreground-plant. 

Of  Viburnum  rhytidophyllum,  another  of  the  novelties  from 
the  Orient,  we  have  two  young  specimens.  These  have  not  yet 
fruited,  but  as  it  was  for  their  leaves  and  fruit  that  we  bought 
them,  it  is  with  no  little  interest  that  we  await  next  year's 
developments.  I  give  here  E.  H.  Wilson's  description  of  this 
plant:  "A  remarkable  viburnum  and  totally  unlike  any  other  is 
V.  rhytidophyllum,  with  long  deep-green,  lance-shaped,  strongly 
wrinkled  leaves,  which  on  the  under  side  are  covered  with  a 
dense  white  felt.  It  is  a  shrub  from  five  to  ten  feet  tall,  compact 
in  habit,  and  has  broad  flat  heads  of  dirty  white,  rather  foetid 


80  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

flowers,  succeeded  by  handsome  fruits,  which  as  they  ripen 
change  to  pink  and  crimson  and  are  finally  jet  black.'* 

At  the  time  of  the  1922  show  of  the  American  Gladiolus 
Society  at  Kalamazoo,  Michigan,  it  was  my  fortune  to  visit  a 
most  beautiful  small  garden  in  the  country  near  Kalamazoo. 
The  garden  nestled  into  an  angle  of  a  low  white  house  and  could 
be  enjoyed  particularly  from  a  picturesque  white  settee  under 
a  low  spreading  apple  tree  at  the  outer  end  of  the  garden.  But 
the  individual  things  that  left  their  impression  upon  me  here 
were  great  trees  of  althea,  rose-pink  double  althea,  in  full  bloom 
on  either  side  of  the  main  entrance  to  the  house  from  the 
garden,  and  also  in  one  or  two  other  places.  These  altheas  — 
or  Roses  of  Sharon,  to  use  their  old  familiar  name  —  were 
twelve  feet  high  at  least,  and  among  their  dark  green  leaves 
were  countless  double  flowers  of  a  good  clear  pink.  The  effect 
was  almost  of  trees  of  roses  in  August.  To  find  the  name  of  this 
variety  I  wrote  to  the  firm  who  had  supplied  it,  and  this  was, 
in  part,  the  reply:  — 

"I  do  not  know  any  double  variety  that  I  could  truthfully 
recommend  as  being  a  clear  pink,  as  most  of  them  are  tinted 
with  blue  or  violet.  I  think  the  one  that  would  come  nearest 
to  this  color  is  the  large  single-flowered  variety  rubis.  The 
single  coslestis  is  also  the  nearest  color  to  blue.  Totus  albus  is  a 
fine  single  white  and  a  good  companion  to  the  other  two.  In 
my  opinion  they  are  the  three  best  and  most  effective  altheas 
in  the  lot.  Jeanne  d'Arc  and  alba  plena  are  good  double  whites, 
and  probably  carnea  plena  would  come  the  nearest  to  a  light 
pink.  Lady  Stanley,  a  white  with  a  crimson  throat,  is  a  very 
good  one.  The  variety  ardens  is  the  nearest  blue  of  any  I  know 
among  the  double,  but  not  nearly  so  blue  as  coelestis.  Frankly, 
I  have  to  admit  that  I  am  not  much  of  an  authority  on  altheas. 
The  descriptions  in  our  catalogue  were  taken  from  the  catalogue 


VARIETY  IN  SHRUBS  81 

of  Turbat,  Orleans,  France,  from  whom  we  imported  them,  and  I 
think  there  is  room  for  much  improvement  in  the  descriptions 
of  this  class  of  shrubs." 

Among  these  surely  one  or  two  might  be  chosen  to  try  out  in 
any  small  garden.  This  shrub  needs,  however,  sufficient  room 
in  which  to  develop.  It  is  tall  rather  than  wide,  but  should 
have  from  four  to  five  square  feet  of  ground  to  itself  for  the 
finest  results.  It  is  its  August  bloom  that  first  commends  it  to 
the  gardener,  for  the  flowering  shrub  of  August  is  exceedingly 
rare. 

One  of  Mr.  T.  A.  Havemeyer's  recommendations  of  the  new 
French  hybrids  in  lilacs  —  one  particularly  suitable  for  the 
small  garden  —  is  that  they  can  be  planted  along  a  fence  and 
still  interfere  with  nothing  grown  more  than  five  feet  away; 
also  the  same  authority  makes  an  astounding  assertion:  when 
the  bushes  get  too  large,  cut  them  down  to  the  ground,  and  in 
two  years  you  will  have  finer  lilacs  than  ever.  This  experiment 
I  shall  try;  but  while  one  could  never  doubt  the  wisdom  of 
following  ad\'ice  from  this  source,  I  shall  begin  such  drastic 
doings  with  one  of  our  less  lovely  varieties.  Never  could  I  take 
the  axe  to  machrostachya,  to  £mile  Gentil,  to  Julien  Girardin,  to 
President  Fallieres,  to  Danton,  or  to  that  beauty  in  lilacs  from 
which  I  am  expecting  such  clusters  of  bluish  flowers,  Bleuatre. 

Lilac  Princess  Alexandra  came  to  this  place  some  years  ago 
from  Professor  Sargent.  It  flowered  abundantly  in  the  spring 
of  1922  and  impressed  everyone  by  its  great  beauty.  It  has 
matchless  thyrses  of  pure  waxen  white  flowers,  freely  borne 
upon  a  shapely  bush  covered  with  leaves  almost  as  dark  a  green 
as  English  ivy.  "WTiat  a  satisfaction  then  to  have  what  has 
lately  come  here,  a  little  pamphlet  or  price  list  from  a  nursery- 
man who  devotes  himself  largely  to  growing  this  one  lilac. 

The  association  of  the  lilac  for  Americans  is  the  immemorial 


82  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

one  of  the  old  gardens  of  New  England  and  the  latter's  age  of 
innocence.  But  since  the  war  there  is  a  new  and  glorious  asso- 
ciation which  let  none  of  us  forget :  I  mean  the  moving  courage 
of  that  great  Victor  Lemoine  of  Nancy  to  whom  we  owe  the 
new  beauties  of  this  lovely  plant. 

No  one  has  voiced  the  praises  of  the  lilac  as  they  should  be 
sung  —  a  writer  with  the  gift,  say,  of  him  who  wrote  those 
beautiful  words  of  the  sweet  pea:  "The  sweet  pea  has  a  keel 
that  was  meant  to  seek  all  shores;  it  has  wings  that  were  meant 
to  fly  across  all  continents;  it  has  a  standard  which  is  friendly 
to  all  nations;  and  it  has  a  fragrance  like  the  universal  Gospel  — 
yea,  a  sweet  prophecy  of  welcome  everywhere,  that  has  been 
abundantly  fulfilled." 

Few  flowers  have  received  so  rapturously  perfect  an  expression 
of  praise  as  this.  The  lilac  deserves  one.  Its  virtues  are :  graceful 
beauty  of  form  and  color  of  flower;  the  aspect  of  the  tree  or 
shrub  on  which  these  are  borne;  its  fragrance,  unique,  and  filled 
with  sentiment  for  Americans;  and  the  ease  with  which  it  may 
be  successfully  grown.  Unlike  some  garden  subjects,  the  older 
a  lilac  grows,  the  finer  becomes  its  appearance.  As  instances, 
take  the  specimens  of  syringa  puhescens  at  Highland  Park, 
Rochester,  or  the  great  lilac  trees,  named  hybrids,  at  the  Arnold 
Arboretum,  Boston.  The  wonderful  lilac  collections  of  the  Arnold 
Arboretum  and  of  Highland  Park,  Rochester,  New  York,  Mr. 
Havemeyer's  interesting  collection  on  Long  Island,  and  the 
fine  gift  of  over  two  hundred  of  this  genus  to  Montclair,  N.  J. 
by  Mr.  Frank  T.  Presby,  place  this  beautiful  May-flowering 
shrub  within  reach  of  most  dwellers  in  the  northern  Atlantic 
seaboard  states;  and  so  infectious  is  the  love  of  and  desire  for 
beauty  that  I  predict  it  will  not  be  long  before  the  glorious 
newer  lilac  hybrids  and  species  will  be  found  over  all  of  the 
northern  part  of  the  country. 


VARIETY  IN  SHRUBS  83 

The  lilac  has,  so  far  as  I  know,  only  two  foes  to  contend  with: 
overmuch  rain,  and  mildew  from  long-continued  heat  or  drought 
or  from  other  causes;  and  even  then,  these  causes  do  not  always 
have  unfavorable  effects.  Borers  and  fungi  are  less  frequent 
enemies.  The  lilac  is  one  of  the  hardiest  shrubs  known;  it  will 
grow  as  one  wants  it,  according  to  its  proper  pruning,  and  in 
May  its  steeples  or  pinnacles  of  bloom  tower  skyward,  an  up- 
lifted offering  for  the  beauty  of  the  spring.  Cultural  directions 
are  few:  planting  may  be  done  in  spring  or  autumn,  but  the 
last  is  best  because  of  early  swelling  of  the  flower-buds.  Lilacs 
dislike  moving,  so  choose  their  position  beforehand  with  care. 
If  moved,  they  do  not  die,  but  languish  and  refuse  to  bloom 
for  a  year,  sometimes  for  more  years,  and  this  is  especially  true 
of  old  specimens.  What  truth  there  is  in  Benjamin  Franklin's 
rhyme :  — 

I  never  saw  an  oft-removed  tree. 

Nor  yet  an  oft-removed  family. 

That  throve  so  well  as  those  that  settled  be. 

Two  or  three  rules  which  may  be  suggested  here  for  best 
results  with  these  shrubs  are  —  First:  Give  the  lilac  a  well-dug 
and  manured  soil  when  planting.  Second:  Give  the  lilac  room. 
Most  varieties  are  of  fairly  rapid  growth,  and  eight  to  ten  feet 
apart  is  not  too  much  to  allow  when  grouping  them.  Third: 
Prune  the  lilac  judiciously  —  and  little.  Seed  should  not  be 
allowed  to  form,  and  all  weak  shoots  should  be  taken  out. 
Watch  for  suckers,  especially  if  your  lilacs  are  not  on  their  own 
roots;  to  permit  the  stock  to  send  up  shoots  is  to  quickly  smother 
your  beautiful  variety  or  hybrid  in  growth  of  privet  or  common 
lilac.  "If  your  plants  are  not  on  their  own  roots,"  says  Mr. 
Dunbar,  "be  sure  to  set  them  about  three  inches  or  more  in 
the  earth  above  the  union,  and  in  two  or  three  years'  time  they 
will  be  on  their  own  roots."  The  privet  on  which  they  are  usually 


84  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

grafted  acts  as  a  temporary  carrier  for  a  few  years.  Mr.  Dunbar 
considers  lilacs  on  their  own  roots  (that  is,  from  cuttings)  the 
best,  but  this  method  gives  a  smaller  percentage  of  plants. 
Fourth:  Spray  once  a  year,  preferably  in  late  autumn,  if  your 
bushes  are  in  the  neighborhood  of  apples  or  other  trees,  hosts 
to  San  Jose  scale. 

Because  of  the  remarkable  variety  in  lilacs,  I  may  mention 
a  few  groupings  of  the  rarer  ones,  which  might  give  a  purchaser 
a  somewhat  quicker  return  in  pleasure  than  buying  at  random. 
I  find  that  for  three  which  are  very  pink,  President  Fallieres, 
Montaigne,  and  Mme.  Antoine  Buchner  are  satisfying.  For 
deep  mauve,  Danton,  President  Poincare,  Marechal  Lannes, 
Marceau,  and  Milton,  give  the  note.  For  strong  contrast  in 
color,  I  would  suggest  these  pairs:  Rene  Jarry-Desloges,  Danton; 
Thunberg,  Marechal  Lannes;  Marceau,  macrostachya;  Diderot, 
Rene  Jarry-Desloges;  President  Fallieres,  fimile  Gentil;  Mon- 
taigne, Danton.  Ccerulea  superba,  Gilbert  and  macrostachya. 
Arrangements  are  endless  and  fascinating  and,  happily,  "there 
is  no  finality  in  gardening." 

Once  the  devotee  of  lilacs  begins  to  think  upon  them,  he  is 
carried  away  by  the  charm  of  the  recollection  merely.  How 
can  we  ever  pay  the  debt  we  owe  to  Victor  Lemoine  of  Nancy? 
Shall  France  ever  receive  from  an  American  the  proper  flowery 
return  for  the  happiness  given  us  by  these  lilacs?  Mr.  Have- 
meyer's  lately  published  list  of  the  newest  varieties  is  given 
here: — 

1913 

Naudin,  double,  deep  purple  lilac. 

President  Poincare,  double,  claret,  mauve,  purple  buds. 

Marceau,  single,  purple  violet. 

Monge,  single,  dark  purple. 


VARIETY  IN  SHRUBS  85 

1915 
fimile  Gentil,  double,  bright  cobalt-blue, 
Paul  Thirion,  double,  claret-rose,  carmine  buds. 
Claude  Bernard,  double,  bright  mauve  lilac,  early  flowering. 
Jean  Mace,  double,  mauve,  early. 
Diderot,  single,  claret-purple. 
Mont  Blanc,  single,  the  finest  white. 

1916 
Edith  Cavell,  double  pure  milk-white,  buds  cream  and  sulphur. 
Julien  Gerardin,  double  soft  lilac. 
Saturnale,  single  bluish-mauve. 
Vesuve,  single,  claret-purple,  nearly  red. 

Garden  cities  are  very  well,  but  even  more  interesting  will  it 
be  when  cities,  towns,  and  villages  are  renowned  for  the  develop- 
ment of  special  flowers.  Such  there  are  already.  Charleston 
speaks  to  the  lover  of  horticulture  through  its  renowned  azaleas; 
Portland  by  means  of  roses;  Rochester,  through  lilacs;  the 
suburbs  of  Philadelphia  by  their  unexampled  beauty  in  the 
spring.  No  doubt  we  shall  soon  have  towns  and  villages  every- 
where celebrated  for  great  lilac  collections,  or  on  all  of  whose 
individually  owned  grounds  the  loveliest  specimens  of  the  lilac 
shall  grow  to  such  perfection  as  to  couple  the  word  "lilac" 
with  the  local  name.  Those  who  live  in  our  great  industrial 
centres  are  rapidly  encircling  these  towns  and  cities  with  beauty, 
creating  fine  places  and  notable  gardens;  but  until  each  man 
has  his  own  small  bit  of  ground,  and  finds  the  best  use  of  that 
for  both  food  and  flowers,  we  shall  not  have  arrived,  as  a  nation, 
at  an  eminence  of  possible  development.  The  lilac  is  the  shrub 
which  delights  all  classes  of  men,  and  its  more  general  distribu- 
tion in  its  finer  forms  is  greatly  to  be  hoped  for  in  the  interests 
of  a  nobler  horticulture  and  of  the  ever-improving  aspect  of 
the  American  scene. 


86  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

Wilson's  barberry  is  not  altogether  hardy  in  this  part  of  the 
country.  After  five  or  six  years'  trial  of  this  beautiful  fine-leaved 
shrub  from  the  Mount  Desert  nurseries,  I  find  that  a  cold 
winter  kills  back  about  one  third.  Fortunately  the  color  of  the 
dead  leaves  is  so  beautiful  against  the  brick  wall  where  they 
stand,  a  reddish  brown,  that  I  am  almost  (not  quite)  reconciled 
to  their  lack  of  vigor:  the  small  leaves  of  bright  green  appearing 
throughout  the  centre  of  the  plant  give  a  curious  effect  seen 
through  the  reddish  ones  of  last  year;  and  we  are  slow  to  prune, 
always  hoping  for  life  farther  toward  the  tips  of  the  branches. 
What  a  beauty  of  a  shrub  is  this,  however!  Nothing  finer  or 
more  aristocratic  in  the  great  family  to  which  it  belongs!  It  is 
not  very  commonly  used,  probably  because  of  its  cost,  which  I 
remember  as  moderately  high  when  we  secured  our  two.  We 
use  it  below  the  brick  ramps  of  the  steps  from  open  veranda 
or  terrace  to  the  lawn,  where  below  tall  arborvitses  and  with 
Cotoneaster  horizontalis  to  tie  them  to  the  ground,  as  a  lower 
shrub  will  always  tie  a  higher,  it  looks  extremely  well.  Around 
these  little  barberries,  as  I  write,  are  daffodils  White  Lady;  and 
buds  of  7m  pumila,  the  purple  variety,  are  opening  by  the 
daffodils.  Who  shall  say  that  Berberis  Wilsonce  has  not  created 
a  small  centre  of  interest  of  its  own? 

Now  a  word  on  Lonicera,  the  Tatarian  or  bush  honeysuckle. 
We  are  familiar  with  the  older  types  with  pink  or  white  flowers 
and  foliage  of  a  slightly  bluish  green,  shrubs  which,  however 
roughly  treated,  moved,  cut  back,  neglected,  go  bravely  on 
producing  leaves  and  flowers,  shrubs  that  come  forth  in  gay 
leaf  after  the  coldest  winter.  But  some  of  the  newer  loniceras 
should  be  grown  by  everyone.  Here  for  instance  is  Lonicera 
syringantha,  which  I  have  not  seen,  but  which  I  am  always 
being  told  I  should  grow.  It  is  a  small-growing  plant,  and  part 
of  its  value  lies  in  its  very  bluish  foliage,  which  fits  in  for  use 


VARIETY  IN  SHRUBS  87 

near  the  bluer-leaved  spruces  or  firs.  Its  branches  droop  and 
spread  and  its  fruits,  like  those  of  the  Tatarian  honeysuckle, 
are  bright  scarlet.  Lonicera  nitida  is  an  evergreen  honeysuckle, 
and  is  held  in  high  esteem  for  the  beauty  of  its  tiny  shining 
leaves,  as  well  as  for  its  perfect  adaptability  for  use  as  a  low 
garden  hedge  in  place  of  box.  It  may  be  clipped;  like  the  other 
honeysuckles  it  is  perfectly  hardy  and  it  will  grow  anywhere. 
Here  too  is  Lonicera  Maackii,  with  its  large  creamy  flowers  set 
in  rows  along  the  upper  side  of  each  bough  —  a  beautiful  sight 
in  May.  L.  Morroivii  is  a  tall  and  handsome  kind,  with  very 
light  crimson  fruit. 

As  for  the  cotoneasters,  those  little  relatives  of  the  barberries, 
they  are  in  their  fullest,  brightest  beauty  as  I  write.  Here  is  a 
spray  of  Cotoneaster  horizontalis  before  me  in  its  October  colors, 
almost  artificial-looking  in  its  brilliance,  its  tiny  ivy-green  leaves, 
every  other  one  of  a  rich  bronze  color,  its  shining  scarlet  berries 
set  among  these  leaves,  each  little  branch  forking  in  a  sudden 
and  arresting  fashion  characteristic  of  these  shrubs.  Each 
variety  of  cotoneaster  has  its  own  beauty.  C.  adpressa,  C. 
Dielsianay  C.  horizontalis y  C.  perpusilla,  C.  racemiflora  sanguinea 
—  each  has  its  striking  feature;  some  are  dwarf,  some  tall;  all 
are  handsome  and  worth  cultivating.  C  Henryana  is  thus  de- 
scribed: "An  evergreen  shrub  ten  to  twelve  feet,  with  branches 
gracefully  pendulous.  About  the  middle  of  June  white  flowers 
appear  in  corymbs  about  three  inches  across.  This  shrub,  a 
native  of  Central  China,  was  introduced  in  1901  by  E.  H.  Wilson. 
It  is  probably  the  largest-leaved  of  all  the  cotoneasters,  with 
persistent  leaves,  and  is  a  very  handsome  and  distinct  evergreen 
shrub." 

The  Pyracanthas  are  allied  to  the  cotoneasters  and  quite  as 
beautiful  as  those.  Pyracantha  Gihhsii  is  a  Wilson  introduction 
from  China,  with  bright  berries  rather  late  ripening  and  par- 


88  VARIETY  IN  'HIE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

ticularly  free  fruiting.  It  is  of  vigorous  growth  and  should 
become  very  useful  when  better  known.  P.  crenulata  is  another 
very  similar  plant,  also  Chinese  and  also  a  Wilson  introduction 
(I  believe),  with  orange  berries  and  slightly  crenulated  leaf- 
margins.  As  I  remember  it  at  Wisley,  it  is  even  later  in  ripening 
its  fruit  than  P.  Gibbsii. 

Berberis  rubrostilla  is  a  mystery  seedling  that  cropped  up  at 
Wisley  some  years  ago.  It  is  nearly  allied  to  B.  polyantha  and 
B.  WilsoncB  and  deciduous  as  both  these  species  are.  It  is  of 
comparatively  low  growth,  the  main  shoots  slightly  arching  and 
branching  laterally;  the  flowers  are  pale  yellow  and  pendent 
under  the  branches  and  not  particularly  conspicuous,  but  the 
foliage  assumes  a  fine  coloring  and  in  combination  with  the 
wonderfully  attractive  semitransparent  sealing-wax  berries  of 
elongated  and  almost  angular  shape,  provides  a  rare  picture 
especially  when  kissed  by  the  autumn  sun.  Layers  and  cuttings 
are  the  only  means  of  perpetuating  the  charming  hybrid,  which 
will  long  remain  scarce  for  that  reason,  but  it  has  already  pro- 
duced several  seedling  varieties  which,  however  beautiful  in 
themselves,  cannot  excel  the  parent  for  downright  fascinating 
charm. 

The  best  of  all  guides  for  the  trial  of  new  shrubs,  say  singly, 
in  even  one  of  the  smallest  spaces,  is  in  Professor  Sargent's  list 
of  eighteen  of  these  new  things.  I  give  it  with  the  merest  word 
of  description  after  each  subject :  — 

Hamamelis  mollis;  blooms  in  winter,  bright  flowers. 

Prinsepia  sinensis;  earliest  of  all  spring  foliage,  bright  yellow 

flowers  before  the  leaves. 
Carylopsis  gotoana;  also  bright  yellow  flowers,  while  shrub  is 

leafless. 
Amelanchier  grandiflora;  the  first  of  this  family  in  the  Arboretum 

collection. 
Forsythia  intermedia  spedabilis;  the  handsomest  of  all  forsythias. 


VARIETY  IN  SHRUBS  89 

Cotoneasters:  hupekensis,  racemiflora,  soongarica  nitens,  muUiflora 
calocarpa;  these  are  the  finest  of  the  large  number  of  species 
introduced  by  E.  H.  "Wilson.  They  are  large  shrubs  of  graceful 
habit,  and  have  white  flowers  and  red  fruits,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  C.  nitens  which  has  red  flowers  and  black  fruits. 

Rosa  Hugonis:  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  roses  with  single  flowers. 

Neillia  sinensis:  a  beautiful  shrub  with  drooping  clusters  of  pink 
flowers. 

Rhododendron  (Azalea)  Schlippenbachii:  large  pale  pink  flowers. 

Rhododendron  (Azalea)  japonicum:  orange  or  flame-colored 
flowers. 

Berheris  vernte:  A  remarkably  graceful  barberry. 

Syringa  Sweginzowii:  considered  the  most  beautiful  of  the  Chinese 
species  lilacs. 

Spircea  Veitchii:  perhaps  the  handsomest  of  all  spiraeas;  grace- 
ful arched  branches  of  white  flowers  in  early  July. 

Euonymiis  planipes:  an  evergreen  shrub  with  magnificent  crimson 
fruit. 


This  list  is  priceless:  the  basis  for  a  collection  is  now  before 
the  reader.  All  of  these  shrubs  I  have  seen;  a  few  we  have;  and 
in  the  names  here  given  lie  fresh  and  exciting  experiences  for 
all  who  do  not  yet  know  the  variety  in  newer  shrubs  for  use  in 
the  gardens  of  America. 

Is  it  because  the  beauty  of  Japan,  the  older  Japan,  is  fresh 
upon  me,  since  reading  F.  T.  Piggot's  enchanting  book.  The 
Garden  of  Japan,  or  is  it  because  of  that  ev^er  fresh  delight  in 
spring,  which  means  more  and  more  as  one  grows  older,  that  a 
sight  experienced  to-day  seems  more  radiant,  more  moving  in 
beauty  than  any  for  long  years?  It  was  that  lovely  spectacle, 
common  to  Tennessee  in  March,  of  a  peach  tree  in  full  rose- 
colored  bloom  against  the  blue  of  a  distant  mountain  —  Japan 
in  Tennessee!  Yes,  and  even  more  suggestive  when,  as  some- 
times happens,  a  dark  pine  or  cedar  stands  near  the  flowering 
tree.  "  Men  talk  of  the  beauty  of  the  earth  and  contrast  it  with 
the  unsubstantial  celestial  beauty  that  visionaries  dream  of;  but 
this  blossom  seen  in  the  light  of  a  western  evening  is  visionary 


90  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

and  celestial  —  is  an  escape,  for  those  who  will  believe  it,  into 
another  world  more  real  than  this  one.  The  earth  itself  be- 
comes unearthly  in  its  own  flowers." 

"Unearthly  beauty"  —  what  a  phrase!  and  how  one  sees  it 
in  this  mountain  region,  in  the  March  sunsets,  when  through 
the  bare  woods  the  spring  sun  goes  down  all  rosy  behind  the 
blue  mountains,  but  not  before  it  dyes  the  shining  river  below 
with  its  own  rose.  Not  Japan,  not  Fuji,  the  sacred  mountain, 
can  show  a  greater  loveliness  than  these  mountains  of  Tennessee. 
Here  form  is  gloriously  bold,  atmosphere  clothes  all  with  its 
varying  beauty.  Here  in  March  that  sense  of  things  about-to-be 
strikes  one  to  the  heart.  Forsythia  blooms  on  the  lawns;  Japa- 
nese quinces  are  bright;  peaches  and  apricots  —  perhaps 
isolated,  marking  old  sites  of  cabins  or  of  houses  —  are  in  full 
flower;  Lonicera  fragrans  with  its  lovely  earliest  creamy  blossom 
is  past,  and  here  and  there  a  domesticated  Japanese  cherry 
gives  its  own  charm.  To  have  on  such  a  day  gifts  of  flowers,  too, 
seems  to  complete  the  lovely  pattern  —  a  long  box  with  great 
daffodils  at  one  end,  their  stems  covered  by  no  less  than  nine 
gracefully  tied  bunches  of  fragrant  violets;  a  low  round  pan  of 
moss-edged  arbutus  from  the  mountain-side — these  make  memo- 
rable a  day  in  late  March. 

Piggot,  in  the  charming  book  mentioned,  speaks  of  the  devo- 
tion of  the  Japanese  to  buds.  Flowering  trees  and  shrubs  are 
despoiled  of  their  branches  in  earliest  spring  till  the  onlooker 
begins  to  feel  concern  for  next  year's  harvest  of  flowers.  "None 
of  the  many  sights  on  the  streets  which  strike  strange  eyes  as 
eccentric  is  so  strange  as  to  see  people  carrying  home,  with  a 
tender  care  bred  of  admiration,  big  bunches  of  bare  twigs,  with 
perhaps  not  more  than  two  or  three  half -open  blossoms." 

But  spring,  shrubs,  Japan  —  these  three  words  carry  with 
them  the  sense  of  our  flowery  debt  to  the  Flowery  Kingdom, 


VARIETY  IN  SHRUBS  91 

and  again  in  these  pages  I  would  set  down  a  few  paragraphs 
on  certain  shrubs  which  we  owe  to  that  land.  The  history  of 
Japanese  shrubs  already  familiar  to  American  gardens  can  never 
be  too  often  repeated,  nor  can  the  new  introductions  be  too 
often  brought  to  the  attention  of  our  amateurs.  For  as  the 
great  collectors  (such  as  E.  H.  Wilson)  go  oftener  to  Japan  and 
China,  as  their  own  findings  and  choosings  become  more  rarely 
beautiful,  just  so  much  more  interest  and  enthusiasm  for  these 
Asiatic  subjects  are  bound  to  develop  among  amateiu*  gardeners 
everywhere.  Read  Aristocrats  of  the  Garden^  by  Mr.  Wilson; 
get  the  Bulletins  of  the  Arnold  Arboretum.  How  few  people, 
comparatively  speaking,  have  made  collections  of  Japanese 
cherries!  And  now  I  mean  people  with  ground  sufficient  for 
the  purpose.  Experiment,  say  I.  Try  these  new  things.  Grow 
them  from  seed,  or  secure  tiny  trees  from  any  one  of  the  several 
sources  available.  Do  not  continue  to  grow  common  elder, 
sumac,  goldenrod  in  vast  quantities  for  screens  or  boimdary 
plantings  when  these  other  less  familiar  things  remain  to  astonish 
and  delight.  The  confines  of  the  mind,  as  well  as  of  the  eye,  will 
be  enlarged  by  the  use  of  plants,  trees  and  shrubs  from  other 
countries;  and  a  wealth  of  blooming  bough  and  richly  colored 
autumn  fruit  may  be  secured  to  our  gardens  through  this,  as 
in  no  other  way. 

Among  the  newer  vines  is  Vitis  heterofhylla.  If  the  reader 
could  see  what 's  in  this  name  to  those  who  know  its  meaning  — 
what  glories  of  September  color,  what  ease  of  cultivation  of  a 
lovely  climbing  plant,  they  would  leap  at  the  mere  mention  of 
this  beautiful  garden  subject.  My  first  sight  of  this  ornamental 
grape  was  in  the  garden  of  Mrs.  W.  A.  Hutcheson,  in  that  lovely 
country  around  Bemardsyille,  New  Jersey,  where  a  lightly  built 
arbor  was  hung  with  its  fruiting  stems.  My  second  sight  of  it 
was  in  the  Arnold  Arboretum,  where  Professor  Sargent  gathered 


92  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

for  me  a  handful  of  the  jewel-like  berries  from  the  vine,  then  in 
full  beauty  upon  the  high  netting  along  which  are  many  species 
of  grape  from  afar.  My  third  (I  begin  to  sound  like  a  charade) 
was  last  autumn  in  the  garden  of  a  neighbor  and  friend  in 
Michigan.  Here,  in  its  second  year,  the  little  vine  had  climbed 
nearly  to  the  top  of  a  pergola  and  the  lovely  berries  of  turquoise, 
amethyst,  and  jade  were  in  profusion  at  the  tips  of  the  slender 
stems. 

It  is  evident,  then,  that  there  is  here  a  comparatively  new 
climbing  thing  of  the  first  quality,  one  that  should  and  will 
spread  over  the  land  as  its  beauties  are  proclaimed  and  tried. 
Pleasant  is  it  to  see  the  expression  on  the  face  of  the  interested 
gardener  as  for  the  first  time  he  sees  these  fruits  of  unimaginable 
beauty  and  realizes  that  the  charming  plant  may  easily  be  his. 
I  doubt  if  there  is  any  fruiting  plant  anywhere  to  excel  this  in 
the  entrancing  quality  of  its  autumn  harvest.  Vitis  brevipedun- 
culata  carries  berries  of  like  color,  though  larger,  but  the  leaves 
of  this  vine  are  coarser,  bigger,  less  delicate  than  these  finely 
cut  and  thinly  distributed  ones  of  Vitis  heterophylla.  I  can 
imagine  no  lovelier  decorative  wreathing  of  fruit  for  the  table 
than  that  of  these  berries  and  leaves.  Bartlett  pears,  in  that 
delicious  pale  yellow  which  is  their  mark,  and  these  fruits  of 
Vitis  heterophylla  in  their  pale  blues,  violets  and  greens,  in  their 
loose  clusters  with  the  sharply-cut  leaves  among  them  —  what 
a  thing  to  set  upon  one's  table  for  the  delight  of  the  eye! 

Having  said  this  much  of  an  available  garden  subject,  the 
recollection  comes  to  me  of  another  so  lovely  that  it  is  often  in 
my  mind,  but  which  is  only  for  sub-tropic  use.  This  is  Nandina 
domestical  that  fine,  low-growing  shrub  of  Japan,  with  its  grace- 
ful sprays  of  pointed  leaves  held  out  on  stems  like  tempered 
wires,  and  with  a  fruit  of  coral-pink  almost  to  defy  description. 
I  see  now  before  me  the  whole  picture  of  the  finished  grounds 


VARIETY  IN  SHRUBS  9S 

of  a  charming  villa  at  Pau,  one  of  those  white  pavilion-like  villas 
that  from  their  green  settings  face  the  whole  range  of  the  Lower 
Pyrenees,  and  catch  the  floods  of  southern  smi  in  winter.  I  see 
those  lawns  and  shrubbery-groups  and  the  French  gardeners 
working  so  expertly  among  them;  for  it  was  here  that  I  first  saw 
Nandina  and  asked  its  name  of  the  nearest  man.  Then  again 
I  saw  it  at  Jacksonville,  where  it  flourishes  near  a  fine  formal 
garden  on  the  shore  of  the  St.  John's  River.  And  now  in  reading 
the  newly  published  volume  called  A  Garden  in  the  Sub-Tropics, 
by  Mary  Stout  and  Madeline  Agar,  I  see  its  pretty  Latin  name 
again  as  that  of  a  shrub  to  use  near  Cairo,  Egypt.  So  does  a 
beautiful  growing  subject  take  one  around  the  world,  so  does 
an  interest  in  what  grows  bring  to  one  countless  pictures  of 
what  one  has  seen,  refreshing  memories  of  beauty  and  of  charm. 
I  have  longed  to  plant  Nandina  domestica,  but  a  quoi  hon  in 
our  cold  climate?  Therefore,  I  am  contenting  myself  with  the 
thought  that  when  in  warmer  airs,  I  shall  watch  for  and  enjoy 
this  adorable  Japanese  plant  as  unattainable  for  me,  and  there- 
fore all  the  more  precious. 

I  append  a  few  paragraphs  and  the  useful  chart  which  follows 
on  the  matter  of  pruning  shrubs. 

While  after-blooming  pruning  is  applicable  to  many  trees  and 
shrubs,  it  is  not  so  to  all.  Not  a  few  subjects  may  have  a  poor 
reputation  as  flowering  plants  as  a  direct  result  of  improper 
pruning.  To  prune  spring-flowering  subjects  during  late  winter 
would  assuredly  mean  the  removal  of  many  flower  buds  unless 
the  plant  flowers  on  new  wood,  as  do  the  H.  T.  roses.  Some  of 
the  rambler  roses  will  bear  cutting-back  of  both  old  and  new 
wood  and  flower  freely  on  the  wood  that  follows,  but  as  a  general 
rule  such  roses  are  best  treated  like  raspberry,  that  is,  cleaned 
free  of  all  wood  as  soon  after  flowering  as  possible,  the  new 
growths  being  left  for  next  season's  flowering.   Great  numbers 


94  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

of  shrubs  and  trees  follow  a  similar  principle,  in  that  the  flower 
buds  for  the  following  year  are  developed  on  the  wood  made 
this  season.  Others,  flowering  later  in  the  year,  do  so  on  the 
current  season's  wood. 

Bailey  says:  "The  methods  of  pruning  to  produce  a  given 
form  of  bush  are  the  same  in  either  case;  but  if  it  is  desired  to 
head  in  and  yet  not  sacrifice  the  bloom,  the  early  flowering 
shrubs  should  be  cut  back  just  after  blooming."  M.  Baltet,  a 
well  known  French  writer  and  experimenter,  once  made  up  a 
set  of  tables  relative  to  the  pruning  of  trees  and  shrubs,  and  we 
venture  to  give  them  here  for  general  memory-refreshment. 

Small  Trees  and  Flowering  Shrubs 
(Prune  in  winter  when  plants  are  dormant) 


Abelia 

Hypericum 

Actinidia 

Indigofera 

Amorpha 

Kerria 

Baccharis 

Lagerstroemia 

Bignonia 

Ligustrum 

Buddleia 

Lonicera 

Callicarpa 

Lycium 

Camellia 

Myrlus 

Cassia 

Neriiun 

Ceanothus 

Philadelphus 

Clematis  (sections 

Flammula, 

Rhus 

Viticella,     Jackmamiii     and 

Rosa 

Lanuginosa) 

Rubus 

Clethra 

Solanum 

Colutea 

Symphoricarpos 

Cormis 

Tamarix 

Hibiscus    syriacus 

paniculata 

Viburnum  Tinus 

Hydrangea  (American  species) 

Vitex  ' 

VARIETY  IN  SHRUBS 


95 


Spring  Flowering  Shrubs 
(Prune  immediately  after  blooming,  or  when  in  leaf) 


Amelanchier 

Amygdalua 

Arbutus 

Calycanthus 

Cerasus 

Cercis 

Choisya 

Cistus 

Coronilla 

Crataegus  oxycantha 

Cytisus 

Deutzia 

Exochorda 

Forsythia 

Hydrangea  (Asiatic) 

Jasminum  nudiflorum 


Malus 

Olearia 

Paeonia  Moutan 

Persica  vulgaris 

Phlomis 

Prunus 

Ribes 

Rosmarinus 

Sambucus 

Syringa  (lilac) 

Tamarix  africana 

Tamarix  gallica 

Viburnum  (French  and  Asiatic) 

Weigela 

Wisteria 


Shrubs  not  Requiring  Pruning,  but  Simply  Removal  of 
Old  Wood 

{Spring  blooming) 


Akebia 

Halesia 

Andromeda 

Kalmia 

Azalea 

Koeb-euteria 

Berberis 

T/inicera  tatarica 

Calophaca 

Magnolia 

Caragana 

Mahonia 

Cerasus  (Laurocerasus) 

Pyracantha 

Chionanthus 

Rhododendron 

Cotoneaster 

Skimmia 

Crataegus 

Staphylea 

Cytisus  Laburnum 

Viburnum   (American  species) 

Daphne 

Xanthoceras 

Fraxinus  ornua 

(Summer 

blooming) 

Aralia 

Pavia  (except  California) 

Artemisia 

Robinia  Pseudacacia 

Cladrastia 

Yucca 

96 


VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 


Large  Flowering  Trees  not  Requiring  Pruning 


^senilis  (Horse  chestnut) 
Catalpa 

Liriodendron  tulipifera 
Pauiownia 


Pyrus  aria  (Whitebeam  tree) 
Robinia  (with  exceptions) 
Sophora 
Sorbus 


Spir^jas  Blooming  in  the  Spring 

{These  ought  not  to  he  cut  in  winter y  hut  when  the  season  of  hloom 
is  past,  cutting  shortest  the  most  vigorous  subjects) 


Chamsedrifolia 

Hypericifolia.  Cut    to    medium 

length. 
Opnlifolia.  Top  the  long  shoots. 
Ulmifolia.    Cut  away   half  the 

shoot. 
Primifoha.  In  summer  pinch  the 

side-shoots. 


Vanhouttei.  Cut  away  one  half 

the     branches     which     have 

bloomed. 
Arguta 
Lanceolata  or  Reevesii.     These 

should  be  slightly  shortened. 
Thunbergii.    These  require  very 

little  pruning. 


Spir^as  Blooming  in  Summer  or  Autumn 
{Prune  in  winter) 


Fontenaysii 

Fortimei.  Cut  about  half  length. 

Lindleyi.     Should    be    severely 

pruned,    even    down    to    the 


Arisefolia 
Billardii 
Bumalda.    Should  have  ends  of 

shoots  removed. 
Corymbosa 
Douglasii 

{The  spiroeas  whose  branches  are  compact  ought  to  be  thinned  and 
pruned.) 


VII 
VARIETY  IN  TREES 

On  the  small  lot  the  question  of  the  tree  is  a  peculiar  one. 
No  oak  may  spread  its  great  arms  here,  no  beech  increase  its 
silvery  girth  from  year  to  year.  Soil  is  too  precious,  sun  too 
vital;  but  trees  must  not  be  lacking,  for  beauty,  for  use.  And 
therefore  the  fruit  tree  is  p>erhaps  the  proper  subject  for  the 
town  or  suburban  garden.  Will  not  one  fine  apple  tree  create  a 
picture,  too,  no  matter  where  it  stands?  And  will  not  a  little 
plum  or  peach  wreathe  a  bit  of  garden  with  spring  flowers  as 
well  as  yield  the  wished-for  harvest  of  fruit? 

Trees  for  the  little  garden?  Where  is  there  room  for  trees  in 
the  average  small  space,  the  possession  of  most  of  us?  To  this 
let  the  reply  be  made,  first,  that  no  piece  of  ground  is  furnished 
completely  without  at  least  one  tree :  a  tree  for  rising  line  and 
falling  shadow;  a  tree  for  winter  interest  as  well  as  for  summer 
coolness  and  beauty;  a  tree  as  a  centre  perhaps  for  the  plan  of 
the  little  garden,  as  a  lodging  for  the  fowls  of  the  air,  as  a  place 
of  joy  for  children,  who  climb  and  build  among  its  branches  as 
naturally  as  ever  Mowgli  played  in  his  tropic  jungle.  Alas  for 
every  child  in  America  who  has  missed  the  two  pleasures,  of 
reading  The  Sioiss  Family  Robinson  in  words  of  one  syllable, 
and  then  of  building  a  house  in  a  tree! 

If,  however,  the  choice  is  restricted  by  reason  of  space  to  one 
tree,  let  that  tree,  say  I,  be  the  elm.  The  elm  —  where  else  is 
there  at  once  such  beauty  of  form,  the  vase-shaped  elm,  the 
fan-shaped  elm  —  such  towering  height,  such  grace  of  hanging 
leaves,  such  loveliness  of  gold  in  autumn?  The  maple  is  stodgy 
beside  it.    The  maple  calls  for  overmuch  room  also,  though  I 


98  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

yield  to  none  in  admiration  of  the  hard  maple  as  it  stands  a 
rounded  dome  of  dark  leaves  in  a  broad  field  or  park,  where 
space,  air,  and  sun  have  brought  it  to  perfection  as  a  tree.  The 
oak  is  of  too  slow  a  growth  to  be  planted  by  any  but  babes  in 
arms  —  too  slow  for  us  who  wish  to  see  a  fairly  quick  develop- 
ment in  our  gardens.  The  beech  is  a  delicious  tree,  but  whimsical 
after  transplanting;  it  grows  or  not,  according  to  its  fancy. 
Following  these  four  staple  trees,  as  one  might  call  them,  one 
gets  into  the  catalogue  of  trees  that  have  an  unfamiliar  look  in 
our  little  landscape,  the  horse-chestnut,  the  linden,  the  Ginkgo 
tree.  These,  unless  used  with  extraordinary  skill,  give  always 
(to  me)  the  impression  of  having  been  dragged  into  the  small 
place  by  the  hair  of  their  heads!  They  disturb;  and  the  first 
function  of  a  fine  tree  anywhere  is  to  give  a  feeling  of  quiet 
permanence  to  the  picture. 

I  believe,  however,  that  for  even  the  very  smallest  bits  of 
ground  there  should  be  set,  in  the  remotest  corner,  a  young  elm. 
The  emotions  of  watching  the  growth  of  such  a  tree  are  many 
and  varied.  I  have  in  mind  one  of  our  own,  standing  in  a  rather 
precarious  situation.  How  I  have  looked  each  spring  for  the 
precious  leaf  buds!  into  what  depression  I  fell  when  the  iceman 
nearly  ruined  it  with  his  great  cart-wheel!  to  what  heights  I 
rose  again  when  we  knew  the  careful  wax  and  bandage  would 
really  heal  the  wound!  Yes,  in  the  matter  of  that  tree  I  was  like 
Mrs.  Gummidge:  "When  the  porridge  was  burnt,  we  all  felt  the 
disappointment,  but  Mrs.  Gummidge  felt  it  the  most." 

The  finger  of  scorn  is  now  pointed  at  me  by  the  reader  who 
knows  what  trees  do  to  shrubs  and  flowers  in  the  little  garden  — 
what  they  do  eventually.  I  fly  to  their  defense  once  more  by 
remarking  that  young  or  small  trees  are  not  damaging  to  what 
is  about  them;  that  for  a  few  years  a  beautiful  garden  of  flowers 
may  be  maintained  at  the  roots  of  old  trees.  One  such  garden 


VARIETY  IN  TREES  99 

as  this  was  IVIr.  C.  B.  Blair's  at  Grand  Rapids  where  beneath 
several  of  the  very  fine  elms,  for  which  all  that  valley  of  the 
Grand  River  is  renowned,  one  of  the  most  brightly  glowing 
flower  gardens  of  all  my  experience  —  made  of  course  in  fresh 
rich  soil  —  has  persisted  for  years. 

Where  flowers  are  grown  below  trees  for  some  seasons,  if  the 
garden  after  a  time  (as  undoubtedly  it  will)  deteriorates,  change 
its  character.  As  it  fails  a  little,  plant  more  shrubs;  make  over 
the  spot  into*  a  place  of  grass  and  foliage  —  a  green  garden. 
Certain  shrubs  do  marvelously  well  under  large  trees:  Salix 
pentandra,  Philadelphus,  for  instance,  and  the  matrimony  vine. 

For  those  interested  in  experiments  with  less  familiar  trees 
there  are  certain  magnolias,  perfectly  hardy  in  northern  gardens, 
such  as  M.  stellata  and  M.  conspicua.  In  my  opinion  such  trees, 
because  of  the  shining  dark  green  of  their  leaves,  should  be  used 
mainly  where  the  foliage  is  in  the  same  key  with  evergreens,  ivy, 
and  such.  It  is  in  such  company  too  that  their  white  or  pink 
flowers  are  most  dazzling  in  spring.  ISIr.  Wilson  commends  the 
sourw'ood  (Oxydendrvm  arhoreum),  a  beautiful  tree  from  the 
Appalachians,  with  white  urn-shaped  flowers,  which  are  pro- 
duced while  the  tree  is  yet  very  small.  There  are,  too,  the  Varnish 
tree  (Koelreuteria  paniculata),  the  Pagoda  tree  {Sophora  japon- 
ica),  and  the  Acanthopanax  {Kalopanax  ricinifolium) .  The  first, 
originally  from  Russia,  but  much  used  in  Chinese  gardens,  Mr. 
Wilson  holds  a  capital  subject  for  our  own.  Its  height  is  from 
twenty  to  thirty  feet,  its  flowers  in  midsummer  (please  notice 
that)  are  many  and  of  a  bright  yellow  among  its  large  and  glossy 
green  leaves. 

Anyone  who  has  grown  locusts  and  more  especially  the  black 
locust  knows  their  ready  foe,  the  borer.  Sophora,  the  second  of 
these  trees,  is  locust-like  in  appearance  and  has  flowers  of  white, 
but  no  borer  will  attack  it.   This  tree  grows  to  a  great  height 


100         VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

and  is,  therefore,  unsuited  to  the  small  garden;  but  so  beautiful 
must  be  its  July  and  August  flowering,  it  should  be  mentioned 
here.  The  Kalopanax  Mr.  Wilson  calls  one  of  the  noblest  trees 
of  the  cool  temperate  regions.  In  the  middle  of  summer  this 
tree,  whose  leaves  are  on  the  order  of  those  of  the  castor-oil 
plant,  carries  flat  clusters  of  white  flowers  with  rich  black  fruits 
to  follow.  It  is  recommended  for  three  uses  —  on  lawns,  by  the 
waterside,  and  for  street  planting.  He  who  secures  to  himself 
even  one  of  these  little-known  trees  will  give  variety  not  only 
to  his  garden,  but  to  his  daily  life :  I  have  no  doubt  that  seeds  of 
any  or  all  of  these  would  be  sent  to  anyone  writing  to  the  Arnold 
Arboretum,  Jamaica  Plain,  Massachusetts. 

A  positive  opinion  is  given  by  an  excellent  writer  on  his  own 
taste  as  to  trees  near  his  dwelling.  "I  like  daylight,  sunshine; 
and  when  the  storms  blow  I  like  to  feel  that  my  house  is  not 
likely  to  be  flattened  out  by  trees.  After  all,  if  one  wants  to 
advocate  small  gardens,  it 's  no  use  urging  people  to  plant  shade 
trees.  Trees  are  all  right  in  their  place,  but  their  place  is  not 
in  a  small  plot,  unless  they  are  fruit  trees  of  moderate  size." 
No  two  people  see  alike  as  to  trees  near  houses.  How  could  we 
forgo  the  charm  and  beauty  of  the  elm  beside  or  overhanging 
the  New  England  farmhouse?  and  how  about  trees  as  an  im- 
mediate background  for  the  stately  and  important  house? 

In  yet  another  way  may  small  trees  be  used  in  the  small  lot. 
This  is  shown  in  the  illustration  opposite,  where,  flanking  a 
narrow  paved  walk,  evidently  at  one  edge  of  the  grassy  space, 
stands  a  double  row  of  lime  trees.  What  a  charming  suggestion 
here  for  a  little  secluded  way  from  house  to  garden,  or  for  a  walk 
beside  the  garden! 

A  most  beautiful  example  of  the  loveliness  of  pear  trees 
in  the  spring  garden  is  seen  in  our  frontispiece:  meantime  a 
word  or  two  as  to  special  varieties  of  fruit  trees  for  such  uses. 


.1  ricachcd  Allcij  uj  Lime  Trees 


VARIETY  IN  TREES  101 

Mr.  Clarence  Fowler,  in  the  Garden  Magazine  for  October  1922, 
has  a  delightful  article  on  this  matter.  Mr.  Fowler  first  advo- 
cates the  growing  of  dwarf  apples  and  pears  in  the  little  garden; 
he  has  a  word  of  approval  too  for  the  Japanese  plums.  Abun- 
dance and  Burbank.  Abundance  is  a  tall  straight-growing  tree, 
while  the  Burbank  plum,  which  I  know  well,  makes  after  fifteen 
years  a  little  bower  in  itself.  There  is  something  enticing  about 
the  habit  of  growth  of  this  tree;  its  low  spreading  branches  create 
a  natural  sitting-place  which  cannot  be  passed  by  in  summer. 
It  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  all  trees  in  spring  and 
summer  both;  indeed,  it  has  three  periods  of  special  interest, 
flower  in  spring,  shade  in  summer,  and  fruit  in  autumn. 

With  regard  to  the  apple  —  as  early  as  1252,  says  Lady 
Alicia  Amherst  in  her  great  book,  A  History  of  Gardening  in 
England,  apples  and  pears  were  grown  in  monkish  gardens;  in 
Tudor  gardens  always  much  fruit  was  grown.  From  1252  to 
1922  —  what  an  array  of  years!  As  for  the  dwarf  apple  among 
flowers,  it  happens  that  in  our  upper  or  trial  garden  we  have 
four  Stark's  Delicious  apples  set  where  the  gravel  walks  cross. 
Their  branches  now  are  touching  each  other  and  I  plan  to 
pleach  these  over  the  walk-intersection,  to  weave  them  together 
so  as  to  form  a  little  arbor,  a  small  concave  roof  of  green,  which 
will  add  interest  to  this  part  of  the  garden. 

Pear  trees  set  along  a  narrow  walk  of  brick  in  a  Southampton 
garden  are  shown  by  Mr.  Fowler  in  an  illustration  to  accompany 
his  writing,  and  below  these  (which  are  perhaps  twelve  feet 
apart  in  the  rows  and  opposite  each  other  with  as  many  feet 
between)  are  borders  of  late  flowers  of  dazzling  beauty  —  mari- 
golds, salvia,  zinnias,  ageratum,  and  Boltonias  trained  on  fan- 
shaped  supports:  a  new  idea  to  me  when  I  once  walked  there, 
and  one  which  should  be  tried  for  its  effect,  both  original  and 
gay.  The  scarlet  sage  is  entirely  in  place  in  such  a  rich  medley  of 


102  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

flowers  as  this.  Much  white  and  lavender  will  bind  it  in  nice 
fashion  to  the  colors  of  the  other  flowers,  whatever  those  may 
be;  and  an  effect  of  supreme  brilliance  is  always  gained  by  the 
use  of  scarlet  in  the  right  quantity  in  the  right  place. 

I  had  been  thinking  only  of  the  most  familiar  tree-crop,  that 
of  fruit,  and  thus  far  had  I  WTitten  when  my  eye  fell  upon  the 
words  of  an  authority  on  the  nut  tree  —  Dr.  Robert  T.  Morris. 
The  grafted  shagbark  hickory,  in  this  writer's  opinion,  should 
take  the  place  of  "short-lived  willows  and  beetle-bait  elms." 
The  Japanese  walnut  or  heartnut  is  another  tree  recommended 
as  a  substitute  for  the  Carolina  poplar,  though  I  myself  should 
fear  the  effect  of  the  large  strange  leaf  of  this  tree  where  land- 
scape composition  comes  in  for  consideration.  But  certainly 
when,  to  use  Dr.  Morris's  excellent  and  very  modern  phrase, 
the  "  merger  value  "  of  trees  is  realized  (and  it  should  be  realized 
everywhere  —  the  planting  of  trees  for  beauty,  fruit,  and  wood), 
there  will  be  freer  use  of  such  things  as  he  recommends  in 
pungent  phrase  and  sentence.  The  pawpaw  and  the  Japanese 
persimmon  are  two  trees  for  the  decoration  of  the  small  place, 
and  the  heartnut,  mentioned  above,  is  green  long  after  first 
frost,  though  the  buyer  is  warned  not  to  accept  the  variety 
Sieboldii  when  securing  his  trees,  because  the  nuts  of  this  are 
not  so  fine  as  those  of  the  Japanese.  Imagine,  however,  the  sight 
of  the  persimmon  after  its  leaves  are  fallen,  all  hung  with  those 
fruits  of  indescribable  brilliance  —  an  effect  of  color  not  unlike 
that  said  to  be  so  telling  of  festoons  of  scarlet  peppers  hung 
to  dry  against  the  cream-white  adobe  houses  of  the  villages  of 
New  Mexico  and  Arizona. 

Now  confessing  to  much  ignorance  in  the  matter  of  trees, 
there  are  aspects  of  them  which,  even  in  that  ignorance,  I  have 
always  noticed.  Of  one  or  two  of  these  I  should  like  to  speak, 
but  first  I  must  say  that  one  of  my  most  humiliating  —  and 


VARIETY  IN  TREES  103 

wholesome  —  experiences  was  concerned  with  trees.  It  was  on 
a  train  with  the  distinguished  Director  of  the  Arnold  Arboretum. 
He  said,  "Can  you  name  every  tree  you  see  from  this  window, 
by  its  structure,  its  outline?"  "No,"  I  replied.  "Why  not? 
You  should  be  able  to,"  was  his  answer.  Those  words  will  never 
leave  me;  nor  will  these  others,  which,  if  the  reader  will  forgive 
a  digression,  I  will  here  recall.  Long  ago,  while  playing  a  sonata 
and  carelessly  including  a  note  not  on  the  page,  the  instructor 
took  my  hands  from  the  keys,  laid  them  in  my  lap,  and,  looking 
me  straight  in  the  eye,  said,  "Never  add  to  Beethoven!" 

The  two  aspects  of  trees  that  the  tree-illiterate  like  myself 
may  enjoy  in  his  ignorance  are  form  and  color.  What  is  more 
interesting  than  the  outline  of  a  tree,  a  tree  where  space,  sun 
and  air  have  had  their  way  with  it:  the  vase-  or  fan-shaped  elm, 
the  dome-like  maple,  the  triangular  or  pyramidal  spruce,  the 
round  or  cushion-like  hawthorn,  the  slender  arborvitse,  the 
red  cedar  cutting  the  air  like  a  sword,  the  apple  with  its  low- 
spreading  habit  —  that  intimate,  most  friendly  tree,  the  apple! 
And  these  are  only  the  Eastern  American  trees,  the  commonest. 
Take  the  eucalyptus,  a  tree  for  poet  and  painter;  the  live  oak, 
reminiscent  of  Italian  gardens ;  the  great  spruces  of  the  western 
mountains;  the  madrona  of  the  Pacific  shore  with  its  brilliant 
bark  —  the  list  is  almost  endless.  It  is  not  only  form  however; 
these  trees  differ  each  from  each  in  color  of  mass,  in  color  of 
foliage,  and  in  color  of  flowers  too,  as  the  stars  from  each  other 
in  glory.  There  are  the  blue-greens  of  spruce  and  eucalj'ptus, 
the  black-greens  of  live  oak  cedar,  and  fir,  the  ivy-greens  of 
Norway  maples  and  of  certain  oaks,  the  yellow-greens  of  soft 
maples,  the  gray-greens  of  the  poplar  tribe. 

As  I  write,  I  think  of  our  cruelty  to  trees  —  all  again  through 
ignorance.  The  unhappy  spruces,  "trimmed  up,"  the  street 
maples,  "headed  in"  when  planted;  the  beautiful  native  haw- 


104  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

thorns  all  of  whose  low-spreading  boughs  have  been  cut  away; 
better,  far  better  to  have  laid  the  axe  to  the  root  of  this  tree  than 
to  have  maimed,  disfigured  it  for  life;  the  maples,  the  basswoods, 
the  elms  which  on  many  a  village  street  in  the  Middle  West 
have  been  planted  fifteen  feet  apart,  and  left  to  that  fate  so 
easily  imagined  by  those  who  know  and  love  a  tree. 

In  Art  Out  of  Doors  we  are  warned  against  four  trees  as  being 
difficult  to  use  with  good  effect  in  grounds  either  large  or  small. 
These  are  the  Lombardy  poplar,  the  white  birch,  the  copper 
beech,  and  the  weeping  willow.  These  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer 
pronounces  eccentric  trees,  dangerous  to  use  in  plantings  where 
quiet  harmony  is  the  aim.  It  is  now  twenty  years  since  this 
opinion  was  printed;  and  of  the  four  difficult  trees  we  may  say 
that  all  but  the  poplar  have  lost  vogue.  Few  to-day  plant  the 
weeping- willow,  fewer  still  the  birch  and  the  copper  beech. 
The  poplar  is  another  story.  This  land  bristles  with  them.  The 
idea  of  the  pictorial  effect  of  the  Lombardy  poplar  has  taken 
hold  of  the  gardening  populace,  and  it  is  beside  or  in  the  garden 
of  almost  every  new  house  of  the  twentieth  century.  It  has  its 
defects,  especially  with  regard  to  the  ubiquitous  root  system; 
but  its  narrow  upright  form,  its  charming  gray-green  hue,  give 
it  a  certain  fitness  for  use  beside  the  rather  coquettish  type  of 
small  white  house  which  we  see  building  to-day;  there  is  some- 
thing French  in  the  feeling  of  many  of  these  houses,  and  above 
all  trees  of  course  is  this  poplar  a  French  tree.  For  screens,  too, 
it  is  invaluable;  though  one  must  admit  that  it  is  seldom  so 
used  as  to  melt  into  trees  near  it  as  it  should.  Not  often  is  there 
room  to  use  it  in  its  foreign  fashion  in  great  ranks  along  roads 
or  avenues,  except  perhaps  on  such  estates  as  that  of  Castle 
Hill,  Ipswich,  Massachusetts,  where  this  is  managed  with  fine 
effect.  The  old  Carolina  poplar  in  October  is  a  tree  of  silver, 
rising  as  ours  do  back  of  pines,  the  clear  white  branches  soaring 


VARIETY  IN  TREES  105 

into  the  air,  \^'ith  the  newer  leaves  still  holding  to  the  topmost 
branches,  leaves  pure  silver  too,  all  floating  against  a  sky  of 
Italian  blue.  As  the  wind  bends  and  blows  these  white  leaves 
against  those  blue  deeps  of  heaven,  I  have  in  an  inland  village 
a  vision  of  the  sea,  of  ships.  Coming  figuratively  and  literally 
to  earth,  however,  the  traveling  roots  of  the  Carolina  poplar 
almost  offset  its  misty  beauty  for  landscape  effect.  They  are 
undeniably  diflBcult  to  deal  with. 

My  window,  a  leaded  casement  window,  has  now  been  for  a 
week  two  panels  of  golden  leaves.  Fifty  feet  away  .are  hard 
maples,  and  the  glow  of  them  this  autumn  has  been  particularly 
rich  and  deep.  Now  they  are  thinning;  more  stems  appear,  like 
lines  of  some  dark  fountain;  the  apiber  of  the  foliage  has  a 
browner  tone.  But  as  this  change  takes  place,  a  change  that 
dims,  that  saddens  a  little,  another  and  brighter  change  is 
coming  in  the  earth  below  —  for  to  that  we  are  this  week  con- 
signing many  treasures  in  bulbs,  and  the  soil  below  leafless 
quince-bushes  begins  to  radiate  all  the  color  of  the  spring.  The 
large  pale  bulbs  of  the  hyacinth  King  of  the  Yellows,  as  they  lie 
on  well- worked  purple  ground,  what  a  vision  they  give  of  march- 
ing squads  of  creamy-yellow  flowers,  in  type  much  like  the 
wooden  soldiers  of  the  Chauve  Souris.  Those  iridescent  purple 
bulbs  of  the  hyacinths  King  of  the  Blues  and  Enchantress  — 
each  one  is  a  prison  of  such  lavenders  and  violets  that  the  color 
seems  to  burst  through  the  onion-like  smoothness  of  the  bulbs' 
own  coverings. 

It  is  this  marvelous,  this  constant  replacement  of  delight,  of 
fresh  idea  and  plan,  which,  whether  we  see  it  or  not,  is  going  on 
all  about  us  as  we  garden  —  it  is  the  recognition  of  this  that 
changes  all  gardening  from  prose  into  poetry,  from  work  into 
a  song.  The  wonder  of  this,  that  as  the  leaves  of  maple  take  a 


106  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

bright  departure,  the  very  work  that  must  be  carried  on  at  this 
season,  at  this  moment,  turns  our  regret  into  most  glowing  hope! 
It  is,  however,  not  only  bulb-planting  time.  These  are  the 
best  moments  of  all  the  year  for  the  moving  or  setting  of  shrubs 
and  trees;  and  therefore  this  chapter  shall  close  with  some 
practical  suggestions  for  tree-planting  from  the  long-established 
firm  of  Stark  Brothers.  Their  notes  are  printed  on  an  immense 
tag  sent  with  every  consignment  of  stock. 

Arrival  of  Trees.  Just  as  soon  as  trees  arrive,  unpack,  unless 
weather  is  freezing;  in  which  case,  place  box  in  cool  frost-proof  build- 
ing until  milder  weather.  When  box  is  opened,  untie  bunches,  shake 
out  aU  packing,  and  if  soil  is  in  good  condition  plant  at  once.  Other- 
wise, "heel  in"  the  trees,  firming  the  dirt  carefully  around  the  roots. 

Wintering.  When  trees  arrive  in  fall,  but  planting  is  not  desired 
until  spring,  choose  loose,  well-drained  soU,  preferably  on  ridge.  Dig 
trench  2  feet  deep,  throwing  dirt  forward  to  make  sloping  bank.  Cut 
bunches  open,  lay  roots  in  trench.  Cover  tree  entirely  with  dirt.  Dig 
trench  back  further.  Add  another  layer  of  trees;  and  so  on  until  ail 
trees  are  heeled  in.  Cover  the  entire  mound  with  plenty  of  dirt. 
Treated  thus,  trees  will  winter  in  fine  shape. 

Prepare  the  Soil. — Just  as  well  as  for  ordinary  farm  crops.  Plant 
trees  when  soil  will  powder,  not  paste.  Dig  the  holes  deep,  and  large 
enough  to  receive  the  roots  without  bending.  Prune  all  broken  and 
bruised  roots  with  a  sharp  knife,  cutting  from  under-side  so  cut 
surface  will  rest  on  soil. 

Planting  Time.  Spring  or  fall  is  all  right,  but  in  far  northern  states, 
spring  planting  is  better. 

Set  Tree  about  2  inches  deeper  than  it  stood  in  nursery  row.  Throw 
in  some  of  the  loose  top-soil  first,  working  it  in  well  around  the  roots. 
Never  put  fertilizer  or  manure  in  the  hole,  but  rather  on  the  surface 
of  the  ground.  Pound  soil  firmly  around  roots.  If  soU  is  very  dry, 
add  several  gallons  of  water.  Leave  two  inches  of  loose,  untrampled 
soil  on  top.  Immediately  remove  wire  labels,  else  they  wiU  cut  into 
the  limbs. 

Prune  As  Soon  As  Planted.  Head  your  trees  low — 18  to  30  inches. 
If  head  of  apple  or  pear  tree  is  already  formed,  remove  all  but  foiu' 


VARIETY  IN  TREES 


107 


to  six  limbs,  which  will  form  a  balanced  head.  Cut  each  of  these 
limbs  back  to  8  or  10  inches.  Prime  peach  heavily,  cutting  back  to 
18  to  24  inches  above  ground,  removing  all  but  four  or  five  branches 
which  should  be  cut  back  to  stubs  with  two  or  three  buds  each. 
Cherry  needs  only  slight  priming.  If  trees  are  planted  in  fall,  wait 
until  early  spring  to  prune. 

Cultivation.  All  trees  should  be  cultivated  frequently,  so  as  to 
prevent  loss  of  moisture.  Cultivate  immediately  after  every  rain. 


vni 

THE  MEANING  OF  THE  GARDEN 

"A  THOUGHTFUL  man,"  says  Canon  EUacombe,  "can  read 
his  own  thoughts  into  almost  anything,  and  perhaps  into  flowers 
more  than  anything  else,  if  he  is  a  lover  of  flowers."  Tennyson 
in  the  Day  Dream  says  this  may  happen  to  any  man :  — • 

But  any  man  that  walks  the  mead, 

In  bud,  or  blade,  or  bloom  may  find. 
According  as  his  humors  lead, 

A  meaning  suited  to  his  mind. 

The  phrase,  "The  Meaning  of  the  Garden,"  turns  the  mind  at 
once  in  several  directions.  The  garden  reacts  in  many  different 
ways  upon  the  individual.  We  will  pass  by  the  soimd,  beneficent 
qualities  Induced  by  the  practice  of  this  occupation  and  art  — 
qualities  such  as  industry,  order,  generosity,  to  name  the  first 
that  occur  — •  and  consider  it  rather  in  relation  to  other  arts, 
as  well  as  in  its  connection  with  letters  and  with  life. 

One  of  the  first  meanings  of  the  garden,  to  those  who  study  it 
intelligently,  is — ^  books.  What  is  a  good  garden  book?  Has 
this  question  been  put  before?  If  not,  it  is  high  time  for  it  now, 
when  hardly  a  season  passes  without  the  issue  from  American 
presses  of  a  half  dozen  books  on  gardening.  Not  that  I  am  capa- 
ble of  an  answer  to  this  question;  but  some  consideration  of  it 
will  surely  be  useful,  for  I  doubt  if  any  one  of  us  thinks  critically 
enough  of  the  garden  book  in  use,  of  those  we  may  be  reading. 
This,  however,  is  a  matter  of  importance.  Before  the  young 
student  of  literature  we  set  only  the  best  books;  before  the  child 
of  four  to  ten  we  endeavor,  if  we  are  discerning  parents,  to  put 
only  books  which  may  properly  form  his  taste  in  language  and 


THE  MEANING  OF  THE  GARDEN  109 

in  illustration.  French  children  are  better  off  here  than  those 
of  any  other  country ;  the  French  have  long  realized  the  impor- 
tance of  giving  fine  draughtsmanship  and  beautiful  color  to 
their  very  youngest.  It  is  hard  to  imagine  the  French  child  of 
an  inteUigent  family  permitted  to  revel,  as  many  of  our  children 
do,  in  the  so-called  funny  sheet  of  the  Sunday  papers  — ■  in  cheap 
fun,  the  ugly  and  grotesque. 

But  someone  may  say  that  this  question  leads  only  to  an 
impasse:  that  the  good  garden  book  is  a  question  of  individual 
taste;  what  is  good  to  one  will  not  be  so  to  another.  I  ask  the 
question  as  a  means  to  obtain  some  sort  of  general  standard  for 
garden  \\Titing;  and  by  mentioning  one  or  two  garden  books,  I 
hope  we  may  get  at  some  of  the  essential  qualities  which  a 
really  good  garden  book  —  whether  important  or  insignificant 
—  may  possess.  Insignificant  a  good  garden  book  may  be  so 
far  as  length  or  size  are  concerned.  I  believe  I  should  not  be 
willing  to  exchange  the  most  imposing  and  valuable  volume  ever 
written  on  roses,  for  the  tiny  pamphlet  by  the  late  Admiral 
Aaron  Ward,  0?ie  Year  of  Rose-Work  at  Willoicmere,  and  this 
for  the  reason  of  that  wonderful  sea-flavor  on  every  page.  Who 
but  an  admiral  would  record  the  weather  with  regard  to  roses, 
thus?  "November;  gales  from  northwest  and  sharp  frost  (26") 
on  the  fifth;  second  week,  alternate  fogs  and  gales  from  the 
N.  W."  Again,  "  WTiile  laying  on  the  covering  of  straw-manure 
for  winter,  keep  a  bright  lookout  for  suckers."  It  is  the  character 
of  the  writing  here,  aside  from  the  special  knowledge  conveyed 
by  it,  that  gives  this  booklet  of  sixteen  pages  a  stout  quality  of 
its  own.  The  seafaring  life  of  its  wTiter  lends  an  added  meaning 
to  his  delight  in  roses,  adds  a  richness  to  what  he  has  done 
and  written. 

Take  now  almost  the  opposite  of  this  leaflet  of  Admiral 
Ward's,  Warley  Garden:  a  beautiful  volume  of  pictiu-es  of  the 


110  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

plantings  of  the  great  gardener  and  botanist  of  England,  Miss 
Ellen  Willmott.  In  this  book,  not  only  are  rare  flowers,  shrubs, 
and  trees  from  the  world  over  shown  growing  beautifully  in 
Essex,  but  such  borders  of  roses  and  irises,  such  masses  of  the 
Nankeen  lily  at  the  edge  of  a  sunlit  sweep  of  grass,  such  cascades 
of  Alpine  primroses  between  boulders  in  the  rock  garden,  such 
a  delightful  garden-house  with  such  roses  clambering  over  it, 
that  for  my  part  I  could  not  possibly  sit  long  within,  but  must 
be  outside  to  enjoy  the  colors  and  scents  of  these  superbly  grown 
flowers.  Charm  unending  is  in  this  sumptuous  book,  as  equally 
it  lies  in  the  tiny  pamphlet  of  the  admiral;  and  it  is  the  very 
function  of  the  garden  to  impart  this  charm  to  garden  literature. 
One  of  the  more  important  meanings  of  the  garden  is  then, 
the  fascinating  quality  of  what  is  in  these  books  about  it. 

In  near  relation  to  this  meaning  lies  another  —  the  power  of 
the  garden  to  stir  the  mind.  It  makes  for  quests.  When  one 
hears  of  a  strange  new  seed,  plant,  flower,  shrub,  strangely 
beautiful,  who  does  not  snatch  pencil  and  notebook,  beg  for 
details  from  the  speaker,  turn  to  catalogues,  to  books?  And  when 
a  treasure  arrives,  to  what  ingenuities  does  one  not  set  oneself 
that  its  sowing  or  its  setting,  its  care,  its  growth,  may  be  of  the 
best  and  finest?  No  interest,  no  other  legitimate  curiosity  sets 
the  mind  in  such  lovely  ways  as  does  the  garden  interest.  Here 
we  work  hand  in  hand  with  science  and  with  art,  and  always  in 
a  pure  and  happy  air.  Let  me  give  an  instance  of  what  I  mean 
by  this  stirring  up  of  the  mind.  Not  many  weeks  ago,  accounts 
began  to  arrive  in  this  country  of  a  new  tulip  shown  at  Chelsea 
this  year  —  a  glory  of  a  parrot  tulip  —  pink,  a  sport  from  Clara 
Butt,  bearing  the  sprightly  name  of  Fantasy.  A  pink  parrot- 
tulip  would  be  truly  a  sensation  —  I  thought  of  the  pretty 
practice  of  a  fine  amateur  in  Hartford,  who  on  her  shining 
luncheon-table  in  spring  lays  a  wreath  of  parrot  tulips  with  their 


THE  MEANING  OF  THE  GARDEN     HI 

leaves,  and  has  not  only  the  flowers  but  their  reflections  in  the 
poUshed  wood,  as  if  in  water,  for  the  pleasure  of  the  eye.  How 
delicious  would  a  pink  parrot-tulip  be  for  this  use  or  for  any 
other!  It  set  me  writing  to  a  half  dozen  men  in  England  and 
in  Holland  to  enquire  concerning  the  new  beauty :  How  much  was 
it?  Could  I  buy  a  bulb  or  two?  And  the  letters  in  reply  to  my 
questions  brought  back  more,  much  more  to  me  than  the  mere 
reply  as  to  the  plant  novelty :  comments  on  our  quarantine  law, 
mention  of  other  novelties,  bits  of  horticultural  news  most  wel- 
come and  unlooked  for. 

And  now  a  word  as  to  the  garden  in  its  relation  to  other  arts. 
For  music  in  the  garden  let  me  refer  at  once  to  one  of  the 
most  romantic  chapters  ever  written  on  this  subject.  It  is  a 
part  of  IVIr.  J.  B.  Trend's  lately  published  book,  A  Picture  of 
Modern  Spairi,  and  its  enchanting  title  is  "Music  in  the  Garden 
of  Granada."  Is  not  that  title  in  itself  a  picture  and  a  melody? 
Has  it  not  a  delicious  sound?  Read  this  chapter;  do  not  miss  it. 
"Here,"  says  IVIr.  Trend,  "in  the  strange  delight  of  the  garden, 
I  realized  how  immensely  the  emotional  and  mystical  resources 
of  guitar,  lute,  and  bandore  are  enhanced  by  the  open  air.  .  .  . 
The  hidden  musicians,  the  tall  thin  cypresses,  the  masses  of 
foliage  and  the  indistinct  scents  which  came  from  these  were 
all  carefully  considered  by  our  host.  .  .  .  Senor  de  Falla  of 
course  has  long  realized  what  sort  of  music  and  what  instru- 
ments are  most  suited  to  the  gardens  of  Spain,  as  some  people 
in  England  have  learned  that  the  music  most  expressive  for  an 
English  garden  is  to  be  found  in  unaccompanied  madrigals." 
The  -wTiter  adds  this  beautiful  observation:  "Moorish  art  is 
only  made  intelligible  by  moonlight;  Granada  is  only  explained 
by  its  guitars." 

The  garden  means  memories.  My  own  first  gardening  is 
associated  with  the  dear  remembrance  of  Mrs.  Henry  W.  King 


112         VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

of  Chicago,  who  long  before  the  gracious  art  was  generally 
practised  in  the  Middle  West,  had  an  old-fashioned  formal  gar- 
den, on  the  order  of  that  at  Mount  Vernon,  some  twenty  miles 
out  from  Chicago.  I  should  like  to  speak  here  of  this  garden- 
lover's  remarkable  herb  garden.  Mrs.  King  was  a  botanist,  a 
traveler,  a  lover  of  beauty,  thorough  in  all  her  undertakings. 
In  her  garden  of  herbs  were  as  many  as  two  hundred  and  ten 
varieties ;  and  the  list  happening  to  reach  the  eye  of  Lady  Brown- 
low  in  England,  the  latter  at  once  proceeded  to  plant  the  whole 
of  it  in  her  own  beautiful  circular  brick- walled-and-paved  herb 
garden  of  Ashridge,  in  Hertfordshire.  Thus  may  the  New  World 
occasionally  help  the  Old.  Incidentally,  one  of  the  delightful 
things  I  remember  noticing  long  since,  in  the  garden  at  Ash- 
ridge, was  the  manner  of  labeling  each  subject.  A  brick,  laid  on 
its  side  and  tipp>ed  slightly  back,  carried  the  name  of  its  herb 
painted  upon  it  in  square  black  letters.  Nothing  better  or 
simpler  could  have  been  devised  for  such  a  spot. 

The  loveliest  passage  that  I  know  on  memories  of  the  garden 
is  this,  again  from  an  English  source:  "The  years  roll  back  and 
I  see  myself  a  child  again,  walking  beneath  the  exquisite  blossom 
of  pear  tree  and  apple,  cherry  and  plum  tree,  may  and  hawthorn, 
lilac  and  laburnum,  in  lovely  profusion,  and  again  I  seem  to 
hear  the  beautiful  voice :  — 

Merrily,  merrily  shall  I  live  now. 

Under  the  blossom  that  hangs  on  the  bough. 

At  sunrise  or  in  the  heat  of  midday,  in  the  cool  of  the  evening 
or  in  lovely  moonlight,  blossom  and  foliage  made  fairyland 
through  path  and  pergola  as  we  passed,  the  child  and  the  beau- 
tiful mind,  stored  so  richly  with  verse  and  story,  with  science, 
and  history,  and  the  wonders  of  the  travel  of  a  lifetime.  The 
passing  of  the  seasons  served  only  to  enrich  the  memory  and 
to  improve  the  mind.  Precept  and  example,  cause  and  effect,  the 


THE  MEANING  OF  THE  GARDEN  113 

object  and  the  reason  so  simply  explained  and  demonstrated, 
the  beauty  of  the  snow,  the  glory  of  the  storm,  the  wonder  of  the 
stars  —  all  in  the  appointed  season  served  the  beautiful  mind 
to  illustrate  the  wisdom  of  the  Creator." 

Can  there  be  a  more  propitious  spot  for  the  best  development 
of  the  child,  the  youth,  than  a  place  of  fresh  and  changing 
beauty?  Warley  Place  passed  into  the  possession  of  Miss  Ellen 
Willmott's  parents  when  she  was  very  young.  From  her  early 
days  Miss  Willmott  took  much  interest  in  the  gardens,  assisting 
her  mother  in  their  management.  In  due  course  they  passed 
into  her  complete  control.  The  result  —  not  merely  a  career, 
unexampled  in  success,  of  a  woman  botanist  and  authority 
in  horticulture,  but  the  irradiating  of  the  world  of  flowers 
everywhere  by  the  knowledge  that  has  spread  from  those 
gardens. 

Another  meaning  of  the  garden,  and  this  a  great  one,  is  that 
sympathy  it  brings,  not  only  between  us  and  our  own  country- 
men, between  English-speaking  people,  but  between  those  of 
different  nationalities  and  those  in  the  remotest  corners  of  "this 
bewildering  ball,"  as  Thomas  Hardy  lately  has  it.  Through  our 
own  gardening  possessions  do  we  not  feel  an  interest  in  the 
municipal  rose-garden  lately  established  at  Rio  de  Janeiro;  in 
the  stone  pines  and  terraces  of  the  gardens  of  the  Bosphonis, 
gardens  so  perfectly  set  forth  in  print  by  Mr.  H.  G.  Dwight; 
in  the  garden  at  Maadi  near  Cairo,  out  of  which  has  come  that 
charming  little  book.  Gardening  for  the  Sub-Tropics;  in  the  little 
balcony-gardens  of  Parisian  houses  periodically  furnished  forth 
with  new  flowers  by  the  nearest  florist;  in  the  garden  of  the 
Duca  di  Bronte  at  Taormina;  that  of  the  Palazzo  Rufolo  at 
Ravello;  the  garden  of  Mrs.  Morris  at  Hwai  Yuen,  China, 
whence  lately  she  writes:  "The  house  to-day  is  filled  with  wild 
flowers;  two  hundred  Regal  lilies  stand  about  the  rooms";  the 


114  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

garden  of  the  Villa  Leonora  at  Cannes,  dripping  with  showers 
of  mimosa;  Mrs.  Ryves*  garden  in  India;  Cecil  Rhodes'  garden 
at  Groote  Schuur  near  Cape  Town,  with  its  blue  hydrangeas, 
the  special  delight  of  their  marvelous  owner;  the  gardens  of 
Andalusia,  of  Denmark,  of  Kashmir,  the  garden  of  Mrs.  Butch- 
art  at  Victoria,  glorious  with  all  the  flowers  of  England  in  an 
ancient  quarry  there. 

Coming  thus  toward  our  own  country,  I  think  of  the  lovely 
plantings  of  Mr.  James  Deering  at  Miami;  of  Mr.  F.  Cleveland 
Morgan's  unsurpassed  rock  garden  near  Montreal;  of  the  beau- 
teous French  parterres  of  Mr.  Stotesbury  near  Philadelphia;  of 
the  gardens  of  Ross,  of  San  Diego,  of  Santa  Barbara.  As  we 
think  of  all  this  beauty,  is  it  not  as  if  earth  were  garlanded  with 
gardens? 

The  history  of  civilization  is  partly  written  in  gardens.  From 
the  Arabs,  the  Persians,  the  Japanese,  through  Pliny  and  the 
Medici  to  Miss  Jekyll,  we  feel  and  know  the  continuity  of  beauty 
in  the  garden.  Lady  Alicia  Amherst,  Mrs.  Wharton,  Mrs.  Van 
Rensselaer,  among  women,  have  set  this  forth  most  clearly  and 
beautifully  in  their  notable  books  on  gardening  in  England  and 
Italy  and  on  the  growth  of  gardening  in  America.  With  gardens 
the  literature  of  the  ages  is  constantly  entwined.  Poetry?  A 
thousand  lines  and  stanzas  spring  to  mind  at  once.  If  ever 
there  was  a  prose  poem  on  gardens,  it  is  Mrs.  Boyle's  introduc- 
tion to  Sieveking's  Praise  of  Gardens.  Romance?  Who  can 
forget  the  closing  sentences  of  Disraeli's  Lothair:  — 

"And  they  returned  almost  in  silence.  They  rather  calculated 
that,  taking  advantage  of  the  luncheon  hour,  Corisande  might 
escape  to  her  room;  but  they  were  a  little  too  late.  Luncheon 
was  over,  and  they  met  the  Duchess  and  a  large  party  on  the 
terrace. 

" '  What  has  become  of  you,  my  good  people  ? '  said  her  Grace. 


THE  MEANING  OF  THE  GARDEN  115 

'  Bells  have  been  ringing  for  you  in  every  direction.    Where  can  you 
have  been  ? ' 

"  *  I  have  been  in  Corisande's  garden,'  said  Lothair,  '  and  she  has 
given  me  a  rose.'  " 

Of  architecture  and  sculpture  in  the  garden  it  is  hardly  neces- 
sary to  speak.  These  arts  are  bound  up  with  its  very  existence. 
And  I  venture  to  say  that  no  group  of  gardening  men  and  women 
yet  have  used  such  restraint  in  their  use  of  sculptural  work  in 
gardens  as  the  American  group.  Very  little  marble  and  stone  in 
figures  or  fountains  is  seen  in  our  gardens,  and  this  is  well;  a 
delicate  and  advised  use  of  stone  and  marble  in  the  gardens  of 
a  young  nation  is  the  safe  course.  One  happy  instance  comes 
here  to  my  mind;  it  is  that  youthful  dreaming  face  in  the  John 
Scheepers  garden  at  the  New  York  Flower  Show  of  1921.  Look- 
ing do^-n  a  vista  suggesting  the  green  shade  of  a  walled,  tree- 
sheltered  garden  in  spring,  we  saw  that  graceful  figure  in  its 
tones  of  quietest  green,  with  its  foreground  of  violet  hyacinths 
Grand  Maltre  and  purple  pansies  with  the  deep-yellow  double 
tulip  called  Mr.  Van  der  Hoef,  along  the  sides  of  this  garden. 
Was  not  that  bit  of  sculptors'  art  perfection  in  that  place?  And 
in  all  the  confusion  of  that  crowded  show,  did  there  not  steal 
upon  the  least  sensitive,  as  they  looked  at  that  garden  picture, 
a  sense  of  peace,  a  sense  too  of  the  attainable  in  beauty?  For 
here  lies  —  in  that  word,  "attainable"  —  the  glorious  democ- 
racy of  garden  beauty. 

And  the  last,  and  not  the  least,  of  the  meanings  of  the  garden 
to  all  thoughtful  people  is  that  it  furthers  friendship.  It  may  — 
it  will  —  create  a  true  democracy.  In  that  subtle  and  beautiful 
novel  by  E.  M.  Forster,  Howard's  End,  there  are  two  words  on 
the  title  page,  the  key  to  the  book.  These  are :  "  Only  Connect." 
Like  the  refrain  of  a  song  have  these  words  haunted  me.  They 


116  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

carry  the  very  essence  of  wisdom  as  applied  to  life.  Nor  could 
they  be  truer  or  more  vital  than  as  we  apply  them  to  the  great 
body  of  garden-loving  men  and  women  over  this  country.  Rich 
and  poor,  bond  or  free,  when  we  garden  we  are  at  the  sam« 
work;  we  work  with  the  same  great  elements;  we  work  in  faith 
that  the  seasons  will  still  roll  for  us  and  for  our  sowings  and 
plantings.  There  is  no  other  such  meeting-ground;  there  is  no 
community  of  interest  such  as  this  of  gardens.  "Gardening," 
said  Sir  William  Temple  long  ago,  "is  an  occupation  for  which 
no  man  is  too  high  or  too  low."  There  is  common  ground  here 
for  all  classes,  all  kinds  of  human  beings,  yes,  for  all  races  of  men. 
Someone  wrote  me  lately,  "I  cling  to  the  belief  that  if  anything 
can  stop  the  ever-impending  war  between  labor  and  capital  it 
is  the  mutual  forbearance  that  comes  from  just  such  common 
interests  as  love  of  flowers."  Do  you  remember  in  The  Moonstone, 
by  Wilkie  Collins,  those  pleasant  interludes  in  the  work  of 
finding  the  criminal,  when  Sergeant  Cuff  the  renowned  detec- 
tive, and  Mr.  Begbie  the  gardener,  held  earnest  converse 
together?  And  what  were  their  topics?  Whether  the  white 
moss-rose  did  or  did  not  require  to  be  budded  on  the  dog-rose 
to  make  it  grow  well;  and  whether  grass  or  gravel  walks  were 
best  for  the  rose-garden.  Wide  apart  in  station,  far  from  each 
other  in  vocation,  here  these  two  were  as  brothers. 

If  I  may  be  allowed  here  a  more  personal  word,  opposite 
this  is  the  picture  of  one  who  works  with  and  for  me  in  our 
garden.  As  I  look  at  this  good  portrait  of  a  fine  and  useful  man, 
I  can  read  his  thoughts  at  the  instant  this  picture  was  made. 
Here  they  are.  "As  soon  as  this  is  over  I  must  tie  up  this  fallen 
bloom  of  peony  Marie  Jacquin  that  is  on  the  grass."  That  must 
have  been  my  own  intention  too.  And  I  pity  those  fortunate 
in  owning  land  sufficient  to  entail  a  gardener,  whose  men  do 
not  sympathize  with  them  in  the  work  common  to  both.  Yet 


*^ 

^   - 

-  -■'  *^\  - 

.-.  '11 

yH 

£1         -^ 

"^^^^^^'-^^r^^ 

1ft 
■'A 

Gardener  and  Friend 


THE  MEANING  OF  THE  GARDEN  117 

this  happy  relation  is  rare.  Why  can  we  not  make  it  less  infre- 
quent? What  is  wrong  that  so  often  are  heard  complaints,  not 
praises,  of  one's  gardener?  Whose  fault  is  it?  With  the  interest 
of  gardening  there  should  be  more  friendship  between  employer 
and  employed. 

Tell  me,  you  who  lean  upon  your  garden  gate  (if  in  this  day, 
when  we  are  bereft  of  that  necessity  the  fence,  you  are  so  for- 
tunate as  to  possess  a  garden  gate  to  lean  upon) ,  tell  me,  as  you 
stand  there  of  a  summer's  evening  in  friendly  intercourse  with 
your  neighbor,  does  not  your  talk  always  lead  to  some  aspect 
of  horticulture  —  to  flowers,  shrubs,  trees?  Is  there  a  more 
thrilling  rivalry  than  that  of  the  appearance  of  your  bit  of  land 
as  compared  to  his?  What  of  the  traveler  who  sits  across  the 
aisle  from  you  upon  a  railway  journey:  if  he  holds  in  his  hand  a 
seed  list,  a  garden  book,  are  you  not  drawn  to  him?  Do  you 
not  long  to  talk  with  him,  to  hear  him  recite  his  interests,  his 
experiences  in  the  beloved  region  of  growing  things? 

It  need  not  be  a  book,  a  list;  it  need  not  be  a  great  garden;  a 
single  plant,  a  window  box  in  the  city  street,  a  cluster  of  flowers 
—  all  differences  fall  away,  all  class  feeling  (which  Heaven 
knows  is  as  strong  in  our  country  as  in  any  other)  melts  be- 
tween those  who  meet  upon  the  gardening  plane.  Oh,  if  all  of 
those  who  spend  to-day  only  for  things  might  but  see  this, 
might  realize  the  full  significance  of  the  exchanging  of  the  love 
of  inanimate  objects  for  the  blessed  passion  for  gardening!  If 
this  should  come,  what  fervor  of  delight,  what  benediction  of 
true  comiradeship  would  be  theirs  and  ours!  WTiat  a  step  for- 
ward should  we  then  take  in  true  democracy! 

I  will  tell  you  what  I  think :  the  love  of  gardening,  the  love  of 
all  the  heavenly  beauty  of  the  earth,  kindles  within  the  meanest 
of  us  the  holiest  of  fires.  And  when  that  is  aflame,  it  must  warm 
our  neighbor.  We  cannot  help  being  friendly  and  useful  where 


118  VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

we  have  this  bond.  "  The  best  kind  of  community  interest,"  says 
Dr.  Bailey  in  his  poetic  book.  The  Holy  Earthy  "attaches  to  the 
proper  use  and  partitioning  of  the  earth,  a  communism  that  is 
detached  from  propaganda  and  license;  there  is  always  the 
thought  of  the  others  that  are  dependent  on  it.  All  men  are 
the  same  when  they  come  back  to  the  meadows,  to  the  hills 
and  to  the  deep  woods." 

But  we  must  return,  at  the  end  of  our  wanderings,  to  the  idea 
of  beauty  as  the  garden's  loveliest  meaning,  to  the  suggestion 
that  beauty  is  a  natural  desire  of  the  heart. 

In  the  early  period  of  the  writing  of  this  chapter  it  occurred 
to  me  to  consult  a  friend  in  gardening,  one  whose  words  are 
ever  filled  with  significance  and  charm,  asking  what  her  garden 
meant  to  her.  This  gardener  has  written  for  me  a  little  essay, 
so  perfect  in  content  and  in  form,  that  it  may  well  become  the 
climax  of  these  pages. 

"Earth  was  born  free  and  beautiful,  and  needs  no  Declaration 
of  its  Rights.  That  freedom,  that  beauty,  has  been  invaded  and 
destroyed  by  man  only:  dull,  conceited  man,  who  creates  im- 
perious artificial  wants,  and  in  the  pride  of  conquest  plunders 
alike  nature  and  his  fellow  men.  Does  he  know  what  he  has 
done  and  is  doing.!*  Not  fully  yet;  but  some  few  have  become 
slowly  conscious  of  the  charm  which  man  can  destroy,  but  not 
create,  long  for  it,  and  strive  to  use,  rather  than  abuse  it. 

"Before  man  lived  on  the  earth,  hillsides  pinked  in  with 
azaleas  in  springtime,  prairies  were  starred  with  daisies  and 
queens'  lace,  woods  turned  orange  and  red  and  brown  in  the 
smoky,  autumn  sunshine.  Not  for  us  men,  then,  the  lovely  ways 
of  creation,  more  than  for  the  beast,  the  bird,  the  insect.  Nay, 
not  for  any  creature's  use  or  enjoyment,  but  for  the  sake  of 
loveliness  and  perfection  do  those  things  exist. 


THE  MEANING  OF  THE  GARDEN  119 

"When  the  Nordic  tribes  roamed  the  earth,  each  nomad 
saw  the  crocuses  sweep  up  the  hillsides,  'the  slim  narcissus  take 
the  rain,'  and  smelled  the  lilies  in  the  valley  before  his  feet  had 
found  their  shady  refuge.  Into  the  eye  and  mind  of  each  human 
being  came  the  beauty  of  flowers,  as  well  as  the  stately  compan- 
ionship of  trees,  with  their  gifts  of  shade  and  shelter,  their  sturdy 
virtues  and  whimsical  graces.  Nature  offered  her  finest  gift  — 
Beauty  —  and  though,  needing  sustenance,  man  '  took  a  few 
herbs  and  apples,'  in  less  strenuous  moments  he  felt  the  loveli- 
ness which  was  not  all  for  him.  We,  his  descendants,  no  longer 
wandering  but  chained  to  one  small  spot  of  earth,  dream  into 
our  garden  plot  all  the  beauty  of  our  earliest  tribal  memories. 
Perhaps  that  is  a  part  of  the  reason  for  gardens;  what  memory 
has  recorded,  art  tries  to  reproduce. 

"The  garden  is  to  be  an  expression  of  our  joy  in  natural 
beauty,  the  small  individual  world  where  we  come  near  to 
creating  something  and  try  to  show  forth  our  personal  happiness 
in  the  treasures  of  gift-bearing  Earth. 

"Each  of  us  gardeners  expresses  in  a  different  fashion  his  or 
her  personal  feeling  —  wide  horizons  for  one;  enclosed  and 
shaded  walks,  and  hidden  corners  for  the  unexpected  wistfulness 
of  wild  things,  for  another;  glorious  pieces  of  color  and  fountains 
breaking  in  summer  sunlight,  scented  beds  of  roses  and  berga- 
mot  and  lavender  and  'lilies  in  the  garden,  in  the  dark,'  all 
the  varieties  of  delight  which  the  grouping  of  growing  and 
flowering  things  may  give  us  —  these  do  we  seek,  each  after  his 
owTi  imagination.  Our  individual  fancies  change  from  time  to 
time.  The  gay  little  marigold  gives  place  to  violets.  We  hastily 
discard  the  splendors  of  triple-doubleness  for  the  more  clearly 
sketched  single  flower;  at  any  cost  we  must  express  the  sentiment 
we  have,  and  ask  our  garden  to  feel  with  us. 

"Long  ago  my  great-grandfather,  pioneering  up  from  New 


120         VARIETY  IN  THE  LITTLE  GARDEN 

London  into  wild  Vermont,  built  himself  a  brick  house,  which 
he  willed  to  one  of  his  heirs  in  the  words:  'This,  my  house,  the 

work  of  my  hands,  I  will  and  bequeath  to .'    'This,  my 

garden,  the  work  of  my  hands,'  means  more  to  us  than  'this, 
my  garden,  made  under  my  direction,'  and  much  more  than 
'this,  my  garden,  which  has  cost  me  much  money,'  because  we 
become,  as  it  were,  partners  in  growth  with  the  plants  which  our 
hands  have  sowed  and  transplanted  and  watered,  and  we  are 
charmed  to  have  so  flourished  and  flowered  through  them. 
Then  we  live  in  the  changing  beauty  about  us,  knowing  inti- 
mately each  part  of  it;  and  if  we  so  order  our  leisure  that  those 
happy  hours  are  spent  in  a  garden's  dear  boundaries,  tree  and 
flower  and  sky  and  scent  and  song  wait  upon  us  and  shower  us 
with  blessings." 


w 

fugratn  wMSr 

n.  C.  StaU  Colleft 


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